





v 



KmMCKXKXXKXl 
















f| 



I** . *V| 







(’.lass. .I; 

Book 

Copyright N° : 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 















A SON OF THE STATE 






* 


A 


SON OF THE STATE 



W. PETT RIDGE 

* « 


AUTHOR OF “ SECRETARY TO BAYNE, “ BY ORDER 

OF THE MAGISTRATE,” ETC. 



) 3 

> %) " 

* 




«> 


NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1899 


* 


* 


4 


h, 




Copyright, 1899 

By Dodd, Mead and Company 

TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 


S&5 


or 


' r • 

0CT8U188fl ) 

0 


F.RbT CO?/, 


©tofoersitg $wss 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A, 

Sefc A^.^. 


A Son of the State 
9 

CHAPTER I 

'HE round white September moon lighted up 
Pitfield Street from end to end and made 
the gas lights in the shop windows look abashed 
and unnecessary. Out in the Old Street triangle, 
men on the wooden seats who had good eyesight 
read the halfpenny evening papers as though it 
were day, and were able without any trouble to 
make record in knowing-looking pocket books of 
the running of Ormonde. At the Hoxton Theatre 
of Varieties, the early crowd streamed out into 
Pitfield Street flushed with two hours of joy for 
twopence, and the late crowd which had been 
waiting patiently at the doors flowed in for their 
twopennyworth. When these two crowds had 
disappeared, the Old Street end of Pitfield Street 
belonged once more to the men and women who 
were shopping, and even at the obtrusive fruiterer’s 
(with a shop that bulged almost to the kerb and a 
wife whose size was really beyond all reason), even 


2 


A Son of the State 


there one could just pass without stepping into the 
road. Further up the street, outside a public-house, 
was however another crowd blocking the pathway, 
and this crowd overflowed into the dim passage by 
the side of the public-house, where it looked up at 
the lighted room on the first floor with an interest 
that seemed to be ungenerously repaid by the back 
view of a few heads. It was a grown-up crowd, 
mainly of women. Children had given up efforts 
to belong to it, and down the passage which was 
as the neck of a bottle leading into a court quite 
six feet wide, youngsters shouted and sang and 
quarrelled and played at games. From the direc- 
tion of the other end of the court came a short, 
acute faced boy with a peakless cap and a worn 
red scarf tied very tightly around his neck. He 
had both hands in the pockets of a jacket which 
was too large for him, and he smoked the fag end 
of a cigar with the frowning air of a connoisseur 
who is not altogether well pleased with the brand. 
He stopped, signalled with a jerk of his head to a 
slip of a girl who was disputing for the possession 
of an empty lobster can with a vigour that could 
not have been exceeded if the lobster can had been 
a jewel case of priceless value ; she retired at once 
from the struggle, and, pulling at her stocking, ran 
towards him. 


A Son of the State 


3 

u Where ’s all the chaps ? ” he asked, removing 
the cigar stump from his lips. 

“ Where ’ve you bin, Bobbie Lancaster ? ” she 
asked, without replying to his question. 

“You ’eard what I asted you, Trix,” he said, 
steadily. “ I asted you where all the chaps was.” 

“Some of ’em ’ave gone over ’Ackney way,” 
said the slip of a girl. “ Where ’ve you bin ? ” 

He flicked the black ash from the fag end in 
the manner of one five times his age. 

“ ’Opping ! ” he said. 

“ You ’re a liar ! ” retorted the small girl, sharply. 

“ Ho ! ” said the boy. “ Shows what you know 
about it.” 

“No, but,” she said, admiringly, “’ave you 
though, straight ? ” 

“ I’ve bin at Yaldin’,” he said, with immeasur- 
able importance, — “at Yaldin’ down in Kent for 
ite days. Me and another chep.” 

“ Bin ’ome ? ” asked the girl, with interest. 

“ Not yet,” he said. “ When I do I shall ’ave 
to take a drop of something in for the old gel. I 
went off wifout letting her know and I expect 
she ’s been wonderin’ what ’s become of me.” 

“Then if you ain’t bin ’ome,’'’ said the little 
girl, breathlessly, “ p’raps you don’t 

A strong voice called from a doorway. 


4 


A Son of the State 


“Trixie Bell! Trixie Bell ! You come in this 
minute and look after the shop, you good-for- 
nothing little terror.’’ 

w I must be off,” said the small girl, going 
hurriedly. “Wait ’ere till I come out again and 
I ’ll tell you somefing.” 

“ I don’t waste my time loafin’ about for gels,” 
said Master Lancaster, as the girl disappeared in a 
doorway. “ Ketch me ! ” 

He sauntered down the court towards Pitfield 
Street and, noting the crowd, slightly increased his 
pace. Taking a shilling from his coat pocket he 
tied it in a blue handkerchief and stuffed the hand- 
kerchief inside his waistcoat, being aware appar- 
ently that it is in a London crowd that property 
sometimes changes hands in the most astonishing 
manner. 

“Very well then,” said a fiery faced woman, 
who, getting the worst of an argument, was look- 
ing around for another subject, “ if you did ’ave an 
uncle who was drowned, that ’s no reason why you 
should step on this little kid’s toes.” 

“ Born clumsy ! ” agreed Master Lancaster, 
resentfully rubbing his boot. 

“ Stand a bit aside, can’t you, and let the 
youngster pass. ’Aving a uncle who was in the 
navy don’t entitle you to take up all the room. 


A Son of the State 


5 

Likely as not the little beggar ’s a witness and 
wants to go upstairs.” The fiery faced woman 
looked down at the boy. u Are you a witness, 
dear ? ” 

“ Course I ’m a witness,” he said, readily. 

cc What did I tell you ? ” exclaimed the beefy 
faced woman with triumph. “ Constable, ’ere ’s a 
witness that ’s got to be got upstairs. Make way 
for him, else he ’ll get hisself in a row for being 
late.” 

Whereupon, to his great amazement and satis- 
faction, Master Bobbie Lancaster found himself 
passed along through the thick crowd of matrons 
to the swing doors of the public-house ; the 
importance of his mission being added to by every 
lady, so that when at last he reached the two 
policemen guarding the stairs he was introduced to 
them as a boy who saw the accident ; could identify 
the driver, could, in short, clear up everything. 
Bobbie, accordingly, after being cuffed by the two 
policemen (more from force of habit than any 
desire to treat him harshly), was shot up the stair- 
case past a window where, glancing aside, he saw 
the bunches of excited interested faces below ; 
past a landing, and, the door being left moment- 
arily unattended, he slipped into the room. He 
gave up instantly his newly gained character and 


6 


A Son of the State 


crouched modestly in a corner behind the thirty 
members of the general public and kept his head 
well down. 

u Now, now, now ! Do let ’s proceed in order. 
Is there any other witness who can throw any light 
on the affair ? What ? ” 

The club room of the public-house, with cider 
and whiskey advertisements on its brown papered 
walls, was long and narrow, and the stout genial 
man seated at the end of the table had command 
of the room from his position. He gave his orders 
to a bare-headed sergeant who hunted for wit- 
nesses and submitted the results at the other end 
of the long table; he smiled when he turned to 
the twelve moody gentlemen at the side of the 
table ; to one, at the extreme end, who had a car- 
penter’s rule in his breast pocket he was especially 
courteous. The carpenter made labourious notes 
with a flat lead pencil on a slip of blue paper, a 
proceeding at which the other members of the jury 
grunted disdainfully. Bobbie Lancaster, between 
the arms of two men in front of him, caught sight 
momentarily of the woman whom the sergeant had 
caught and who was now kissing the Testament. 
He recognised her as a neighbour. 

u What does she say her name is, sergeant ? ” 

“Mary Jane Rastin, sir.” 


A Son of the State 


7 

“ Mary Jane Rastin.” The coroner wrote the 
name. u Very good ! Now, Mrs. Rastin — ” 

“ ’Alf a minute,” interrupted the carpenter. 
“Let me get this down right. W — r — a — ” 
u W be blowed,” said the blowsy woman at the 
end of the table indignantly. “Don’t you know 
how to spell a simple name like Rastin ? Very 
clear you was before the days of the School 
Board.” 

“ I have it down,” said the coroner, suavely, 
“R — a — s — t — i — n.” 

“ Ah,” said Mrs. Rastin, in complimentary 
tones, “ you ’ re a gentleman, sir. Tou *ve had an 
education. Tou ain’t been dragged up like — ” 

“ Be careful what you ’re saying of,” begged 
the carpenter, fiercely. “ Don’t you go aspersing 
my character, if you please. I ’m setting ’ere now 
to represent the lor and — ” 

“ Now, now, my dear sir,” said the coroner, 
“ don’t quarrel with the witness.” He smiled 
cheerfully at the other members of the jury and 
almost winked. “ That ’s my prerogative, you 
know.” He turned to the trembling lady at the 
end of the table. “Now, Mrs. Rastin, you live 
in Pimlico Walk, and you are, I believe, a widow?” 
Mrs. Rastin bowed severely, and then looked at 
the carpenter as who should say, What do you 


8 


A Son of the State 


make of that, my fine fellow ? The coroner went 
on. “ And you knew the deceased ? ” 

“ Intimate, sir ! ” 

“Was she a woman with — er, inebriate tend- 
encies ? ” 

“ Pardon, sir ? ” 

“ I say was she a woman who had a weakness 
,for alcohol ? ” 

The sergeant interpreted, “ Did she booze ? ” 

“ She liked her glass now and again, sir,” said 
Mrs. Rastin, carefully. 

“That is rather vague,” remarked the coroner. 
“ What does c now and again * mean ? ” 

“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Rastin, tying the rib- 
bons of her rusty bonnet into a desperate knot, 
“ what I mean to say is whenever she had the 
chance.” 

“ You were with her anterior to the accident ? ” 
“ I were ! ” 

“ You had been drinking together ? ” 

“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Rastin, impartially, and 
untying her bonnet strings, “ scarcely what you ’d 
call drinking. It was like this : It were the anni- 
versary of my weddin’ day, and, brute as Rastin 
always was and shameful as he treated all my 
rel’tives in the way of borrowin’, still it ’s an occa- 
sion that comes as I say only once a year, and it 


A Son of the State 


9 

seems wicked not to take a little something special, 
if it ’s only a drop of — ” 

u And after you had been together some time you 
walked along Haberdasher Street to East Street ? ” 
“ With the view, sir,” explained Mrs. Rastin, 
u of ’aving a breath of fresh air before turning in.” 
w Was the deceased the worse for drink ? ” 
u Oh, no, sir ! No, nothing of the kind.” Mrs. 
Rastin was quite emphatic. u She was much the 
better for it. She said so.” 

A corroborative murmur came from the crowd 
behind which Bobbie was hiding, and one of the 
endorsements sounded so much like the tones of 
his mother that he edged a little further away. He 
was becoming interested in the proceedings, and, 
after the great good fortune of getting into the room, 
he did not want to be expelled by an indignant parent. 

u How was it you did not see the omnibus 
coming along ? ” 

“Just one query I should like to ask first,” 
interposed the carpenter, holding up his left hand 
with a dim remembrance of school etiquette. 
ct What time was all this ? ” 

“Six o’clock, as near as I can remember,” 
snapped Mrs. Rastin. 

“ Six o’clock in the morning ? ” asked the 
carpenter, writing. 


10 


A Son of the State 


“ No, puddenhead,” said Mrs. Rastin, con- 
temptuously. “ Six o’clock in the evening. Why 
don’t you buy a new pair of ears and give another 
twopence this time, and get a good — All right, 
sir,” to the coroner. “ I ’ll answer your ques- 
tion with pleasure. I know when I ’m speaking 
to a gentleman, and I know when I ’m talking 
to pigs .” Mrs. Rastin glanced triumphantly at 
the carpenter, and the carpenter looked appealingly 
at his unsympathetic neighbours as one in search 
of support. “We was standing on the kerb as 
I might be ’ere. Over there as it might be where 
the young man in glasses is that ’s connected 
with the newspaper, was a barrer with sweetstuff. 
c Oh ! ’ she says, all at once, c I must get some 
toffee,’ she says, c for my little boy ’gainst he 
comes ’ome,’ she says. With that and before I 
could so much as open me mouth to say, c Mind 
out ! ’ the poor deer was ’alf way across the road ; 
the bus was on her, and down she went. I cuts 
across to her,” Mrs. Rastin wept, and Bobbie 
could hear responsive sobs from the women near 
him, “ I cuts across to her, and she says, c I — I 
never got the sweets for him ’ she says. Think- 
ing of her — of her little boy right at the last, you 
understand me, sir ! And the constable off with 
his cape, and put it under her ’ead, and she just 


A Son of the State 


ii 


turned, and,” Mfs. Rastin wept bitterly, “ and 
it was all over.” Mrs. Rastin patted her eyes 
with a deplorable handkerchief. uc Yes,’ she 
says, c I never got them sweets — ’ ” 

ct Pardon me ! ” said the carpenter. “ Did you 
make a note of them words at the time ? What 
I mean to say, did you write ’em down on 
paper ? ” 

“Not being,” said Mrs. Rastin, swallowing; 
her head shivering with contempt, and speaking 
with great elaboration, u not being a clever jug- 
gins with a miserable twopenny-’apenny busi- 
ness as joiner and carpenter in ’Oxton Street, and 
paying about a penny in the pound, if that, I did 
not write them words down on paper.” 

u Ho ! ” said the carpenter, defiantly. u Then 
you ought to ’ave.” 

Mrs. Rastin was allowed to back from the end 
of the table, and to take a privileged seat on a 
form where she had for company the witnesses 
who had already given evidence. These were an 
anxious bus driver, a constable of the G division, 
and a young doctor 'from the Hospital. The 
sergeant went hunting again in the crowd and this 
time captured what appeared to be a small girl, 
but who proved to be a tiny specimen of a mature 
woman. Bobbie Lancaster dodging to get a sight 


12 


A Son of the State 


of her chuckled as he recognised Miss Three- 
penny (so-called from some fancied resemblance 
to that miniature coin), a little person whom he 
had not infrequently derided and chased. 

w I really don’t know that we want any more evi- 
dence, sergeant,” remarked the coroner. “ What 
do you say, gentlemen ? ” 

Eleven of the gentlemen replied that they had 
had ample ; the carpenter waited until they had 
stated this, and then decided that the little woman’s 
evidence was to be heard. Miss Threepenny 
stepping on tiptoe, her hands folded on the handle 
of a rib-broken umbrella that was for her absurdly 
long, explained that she saw the accident, being 
then on her way home from her work at a the- 
atrical costumier’s in Tabernacle Street. 

w I was on the point of crossing the road, your 
worship,” said the tiny little woman in her shrill 
voice, “jest ’esitatin’ on the kerb when I see 
the bus coming along and I says to myself, 4 I ’ll 
wait till this great ’ulking thing goes by,’ I says, 
1 and then I ’ll pop across.’ The thought,” 
said Miss Threepenny, dramatically, “ had no 
sooner passed through my mind than across the 
road runs the poor creature, under the ’orses ’eels 
she goes, and I, well I went off into a dead 
faint.” 


A Son of the State 


13 

The little mite of a creature looked around the 
room as though anticipating commendation for 
her appropriate behaviour. 

“ And you agree with the other witnesses, my 
good little girl that — ” 

“ Excuse me,” interrupted Miss Threepenny, 
with great dignity, “ I ’m not a good little girl ; 
I ’m a grown-up woman of thirty-three.” 

u Thirty what ? ” asked the carpenter, his 
pencil ready to record facts. 

w Thirty-three,” she repeated, sharply. 

A confirmatory murmur came from the crowd 
of women at the back of the room. The ser- 
geant told the women to be quiet. 

“ My mistake,” said the coroner, politely, and 
waving aside the incredulous carpenter. w The 
point is — you think it was an accident, don’t 
you, madam ? ” 

“ It were an accident,” said Miss Threepenny, 
looking round and fixing the nervous bus driver with 
her bright black little eyes, u that would never 
have happened if drivers on buses was to attend 
to their business, instead of having their heads 
turned and carrying on conversation with long 
silly overgrown gels riding on the front seat.” 

Having made this statement, the little woman 
kissed the Testament again as though to make 


14 A Son of the State 

doubly sure, and with an air of dignity that no full- 
grown woman would ever have dared to assume, 
trotted off* to take her seat next the bus driver. 
The bus driver whispered something viciously 
behind his hand, and Miss Threepenny replied 
with perfect calm in an audible voice that it was 
no use the bus driver flirting with her because 
she was a strict Wesleyan. 

The carpenter’s obstinacy necessitated the clear- 
ing of the court, now that the time had arrived 
for the jury to consider their verdict, and Master 
Lancaster much to his annoyance found himself 
borne out of the room in the middle of the crowd 
of women. He doubted the probability of getting 
back into the room to hear the verdict, because it 
was scarce likely that he would again have the 
good luck to slip in unobserved by the policeman 
at the door. He went to the first landing and 
looked out on the upturned faces in the court 
below. A long youth with pince-nez, who had 
been reporting upstairs, came down and in opening 
an evening paper brushed unintentionally against 
Bobbie’s face. 

“ That ’s my dial,” said the boy, truculently, 
“ when you ’ve done wif it.” 

u I’m sorry,” said the young reporter. 

“You ’re clumsy,” said Bobbie. 


A Son of the State 


15 

ct What are you doing at an affair of this kind ? 99 
asked the reporter casually. 

u Answerin’ silly questions what are put to me.” 
The reporter laughed and striking a match lighted 
a cigarette. “ After you,” said Bobbie, producing 
another fag end of a cigar, “ after you with the 
metch.” 

u Do you like smoking ? ” asked the young man. 

u Perfect slive to it,” said the boy, puffing the 
smoke well away in a manner that belied the 
assertion. 

“ Queer little beggar ! ” said the young man. 
u Where d’ you live ? ” 

“ ’Ome ! ” said the boy promptly. “ Where ’d 
you fink, cloth-head ? ” 

u Strictly speaking,” remarked the youth, with 
good humour, “ my name is not cloth-head. My 
name is Myddleton West.” 

“ Can you sleep a nights,” asked the boy, “ with 
a name like that ? ” 

“ Myddleton West, journalist, of thirty-nine, 
Fetter Lane, Holborn. Now tell me yours.” 

The boy complied reluctantly. With decreas- 
ing hesitation, he gave further particulars. 

u I ’ll do a sketch about you,” said Myddleton 
West, looking down at the boy. uc The Infant 
of Hoxton ’ I think I ’ll call it.” 


i6 


A Son of the State 


u Going to put some’ing about me in the 
paper ? ” asked the boy, with undisguised interest, 
and discarding entirely his attitude of defiance. 

u If they ’ll take it. There is, at times, a 
certain coyness on the part of editors — ” 

The boy suddenly started. He touched the 
brass rod, and flew downstairs with so much 
swiftness, that he was out in the court before 
Myddleton West had discovered his absence. 
He looked up and saw the constable descending 
to call him back to the room ; the reason for 
Bobbie Lancaster’s flight became obvious. 

The boy slipped eel-like through the crowd of 
women at the doorway and presently reached 
moonlight and Hoxton Street, where he drifted 
intuitively to the outside of the theatre. It grati- 
fied him exceedingly as he felt the shilling in his 
knotted handkerchief, to think that he might, if 
he were so minded — the hour being now half- 
past eight — go in at half-price, and seating 
himself in the stage box, witness the last three 
acts of “Foiled by a Woman.” He laughed 
outright as he stood near the lamps and looked 
in at the swing doors of the principal entrance, 
and imagined the astonishment of the threepenny 
gallery, high on the top of the mountain of faces 
within, were they to see him enter importantly 


A Son of the State 17 

the box at the right of the stage, and survey with 
lordly air the crowded, heated, interested house. 
How they would roar at him if he were to stick 
a penny in his eye, and carefully stroke an 
imaginary moustache and say, cc Bai Jove ! What 
people ! ” It would not be the first time that he 
had amused a crowd ; once, at a fire at Shoreditch, 
he had put on a paper helmet and pretended he 
was Chief of the fire brigade, and a matron in 
the crowd watching him had been so exception- 
ally amused at his antics that she had had to be 
unlaced and dragged home by solicitous lady 
friends. The boy resisted the temptation of the 
enticing placards, for he had already decided on 
the manner in which the shilling was to be ex- 
pended ; the recollection of this made him think 
of his home. There would be some argument, 
he knew, with his mother, concerning his long 
absence, but once the first storm was over, sun- 
shine would come, and the small flask and the 
sausages that he was going to buy would make 
her content. 

He stepped in at the dark open doorway of his 
home, and went upstairs. At the end of the 
passage on the ground floor, a smelly oil lamp 
diffused scent, but not light ; it served only to 
accentuate the blackness. The boy knew the 


2 


i8 


A Son of the State 


stairs well and be dodged the hole on the fifth 
stair and stepped over the eighth — the eighth was 
a practical joke stair, and if you stepped on its 
edge, it instantly stood up and knocked your leg 
— he piloted himself adroitly on the landing. 
There were voices in the back room. 

44 Comp’ny ! ” said Bobbie. 44 So much the 
better.” 

He pushed the door, and entered. Two 
women who were in a corner examining the con- 
tents of a crippled chest of drawers by the aid of a 
candle, looked affrightedly over their shoulders. 

41 ’Ullo ! ” said Bobbie. u What ’s your little 
game ? ” 

“You give us quite a turn, Bobbie,” said 
Mrs. Rastin, nervously, 44 coming in so quiet. 
Where ’ve you bin all this time, deer ? ” 

44 Where’s the old gel ?” asked Bobbie, taking 
his parcels from his pockets. “Where’s she 
got to ? ” 

u ’Eaven ! ” said Mrs. Rastin’s friend, trying 
to close the drawer. 

tc Don’t try to be funny,” advised the boy, 
M you can’t do it well, and you ’d better be 
’alf leave it alone. How long ’fore she ’ll 
be in ? ” 

44 You ’ave n’t ’eard, deer,” said Mrs. Rastin, 


A Son of the State 


J 9 

coming forward and taking the flask from him 
absently. “Your poor mother’s bin run over 
and we ’ve jest been ’olding her inquest.” 

Bobbie Lancaster sat down on the wooden 
chair and blinked stupidly at the two women. 

w And was that — was that my old gel that 
you give evidence about jest now up at the — ? ” 
w Yes, Bobbie. That was your poor dear 
mother, and a lovinger heart never breathed. 
Not in this world, at any rate.” Mrs. Rastin 
uncorked the flask and sniffed at it. u But you 
must cheer up, you know, because it was to be, 
and all flesh is grass, and we shall all meet, please 
God — ” Mrs. Rastin took a sip. 

“ And there ’s many a kid,” chimed in the 
other neighbour, “that’s just as bad off as you, 
my lad, losing both their parents, and you must n’t 
think you’re the only one, ye know. You want 
a glass, Mrs. Rastin.” 

The boy did not cry. His mouth twitched 
slightly, and he frowned as though he were en- 
deavouring to understand clearly the position 
of affairs. 

“ Old man died,” he said slowly, u soon after 
I was born, and now the old gel ’s gone.” 

“Yes, Bobby ! (Run and get a lump of sugar, 
Mrs. What-is-it, out of my caddy.)” 


20 


A Son of the State 


w So,” said the boy, “ it ’mounts to this. I 
ain’t got no fawther, and I ain’t got no mother.” 
w That ’s about it, Bobbie.” 

The boy jerked his chin and commenced to 
unlace his boots rather viciously. 

“ Dem bright lookout for me,” he said. 


A Son of the State 


21 


CHAPTER II 

/ | V HE boy’s sense of injury gave way and was, 
-*• indeed, utterly routed the next morning, 
by a feeling of importance. Mrs. Rastin bustled 
in and prepared a breakfast that filled the room 
with a most entrancing scent of frying fish, and 
to show her sympathy sat down with him to the 
meal and ate with excellent appetite, beguiling 
the time with cheery accounts of sudden death 
and murders and suicides that she, in the past, 
had had the rare good fortune to encounter. 
Mrs. Rastin took charge of the keys belonging 
to the chest of drawers, remarking that so far as 
regarded any little thing that Bobbie’s poor dear 
mother might have left, she would see that right 
was done just the same as though it were her 
own. Holidays being on at the Board School 
which Bobbie intermittently attended, Mrs 
Rastin said how would it be if he were to take 
a turn out in Hoxton Street for a few hours 
whilst she turned to and tidied up ? 

“ Jest as you like,” said Bobbie, agreeably. 


22 


A Son of the State 


cc Don’t you go and get into no mischief, mind,” 
counselled Mrs. Rastin. 

“Trust me,” said the boy. 
u Keep away from that Shoreditch set, and 
take good care of yourself. You’re all alone in 
the world now,” said Mrs. Rastin, pouring the last 
drop from the tea-pot into her cup, “ and you ’ll ’ave 
to look out. You ain’t got no mother to ’elpyou.” 

“ By the bye,” said Bobbie, “ who ’s going to 
cash up for putting the old woman away ? ” 

“ Me and a few neighbours are going to see 
to it,” remarked the lady, with reserve. u Don’t 
you bother your ’ead about that. Run off, and 
— Just a minute! I’ll sew this black band 
round the sleeve of your coat.” 
w WhafFor ? ” asked the boy. 
w Why, bless my soul,” exclaimed Mrs. Rastin. 
w As a sign that you ’re sorry, of course.” 
u That ’s the idea, is it ? ” 

“Some one’ll ’ave to buy you a collar, too, 
for Tuesday.” 

“ Me in a collar ? ” he said gratified. “ My 
word, I shall be a reg’lar tawf, if I ain’t careful.” 

w What size — I think that ’ll hold — what 
size do you take, I wonder ? ” 

“ Lord knows,” said the boy. “ I don’t. I ’ve 
never wore one yet.” 


A Son of the State 


23 


If in Hoxton that day a more conceited boy 
than Robert Lancaster had been in request, the 
discovery would have been difficult. He strolled 
up and down Hoxton Street where the second- 
hand furniture dealers place their bedsteads brazenly 
in the roadway, and when shop people, standing at 
their doors, glanced at the crape band on his sleeve 
he stood still for a while in order that they might 
have a good view. 

A good-natured Jewess in charge of a fruit stall 
called to him, and inquired the nature of his loss, 
and when Bobbie had given her the facts (adding 
to the interest by various details suggested by 
his imagination) the Jewess gave an enormous 
sigh, and, as token of sympathy, presented him 
with two doubtful pears and a broken stick of 
chocolate. Bobbie went up towards New North 
Road, inventing further details of a gruesome 
nature in the hope of finding other shopkeepers 
similarly curious and appreciative, but no one 
else called to him, and at a confectioner’s shop, 
where he waited for quite a long time, a girl 
with her hair screwed by violent twists of paper, 
came out and said that if he did n’t leave off 
breathing on their window she would wring his 
neck for him ; upon Bobbie giving her a brief 
criticism in regard to the arrangement of her 


24 


A Son of the State 


features, she repeated her threat with increased 
emphasis, and as there was obviously nothing to 
be gained by further debate, he strolled off with 
dignity through Fanshaw Street, arriving pres- 
ently at Drysdale Street. The boys here were 
boys with an intolerably good opinion of them- 
selves because they lived in a street over which 
the railway passed, and this made them hold 
themselves aloof from the other youths of Hoxton, 
and go through life with the austerity of men who 
knew the last word about engines. It seemed to 
Bobbie Lancaster that a chance had now arisen 
to humiliate Drysdale Street, and to lower its 
pride. 

“ Cheer ! ” he said casually. 

M Cheer ! ” said the two boys. They were 
marking out squares on the pavement for a game 
of hop-scotch. u Got any more chalk in your 
pocket, Nose ? ” The boy called Nose searched 
and shook his head negatively. 

w Dare say I can oblige. you,” remarked Bobbie. 
u Look ’ere,” said the first boy with heated 
courtesy. “ Did any one ast you come ’ere stand- 
ing on our pavement ? ” 

w No,” acknowledged Bobbie. 
u Vurry well, then! You trot off ’fore you 
get ’urt.” 


A Son of the State 


25 

ct Who you going to get to ’urt me ? ” asked 
Bobbie. 

“ Going to get no one,” said the first boy, 
aggressively. w Going to do it meself.” 

“ I should advise you to go into training a 
bit first,” said Bobbie kindly. “Them arms 
and wristes of yours I should sell for matches ; 
your boots you might get rid of as sailin’ vessels.” 

“ ’Old my jecket, Nose,” said the boy furiously. 
“I’ll knock the stuffin’ out of him ’fore I’m 
many minutes older.” 

“ With a shirt like yourn,” said Bobbie, edging 
back a little, “ I should keep me jecket on. 
You’ll frighten all the birds.” 

“You’d better be off,” said Nose, feeling it 
safe now to offer a remark. “ Come down ’ere 
te-morrer and we ’ll spoil your face for you.” 

“ Take a bit o’ doin’ to spoil yourn,” shouted 
Bobbie. 

“ Come down te-morrer,” repeated Nose, 
defiantly, “ and I ’ll give you what for.” 

“ Make it the next day,” called Bobbie. “ I 
shall be at the cimetry te-morrer.” 

“ Cimetry ? ” said the two boys, with a change 
of voice. 

“ Cimetry ! ” repeated Master Lancaster, with 
pride. 


26 


A Son of the State 


“ Who is it ? ” 

“Mother,” said Bobbie. 

“ Come ’ere,” said the first boy, putting on his 
jacket. “ Tell us all about it.” 

w Fen punchin’,” requested Bobbie cautiously. 

“Fen punching” agreed the two Drysdale 
Street boys. 

Such was the respect Bobbie exacted from the 
two boys during the truce and after his recital, 
that they not only allowed him to lose a game of 
hop-scotch with them, but at his urgent request, 
they took him to the railway arch and permitted 
him to climb to a place where, when a train 
presently went shrieking overhead, a thunderous 
noise came to his ears that deafened him. The 
thin boy’s name was George Libbis ; the other 
boy’s name it appeared, was not really Nose, but 
Niedermann ; he was called Nose for brevity, and 
because that feature was unusually prominent. 
With Master Libbis, Bobbie presently found 
himself on good terms ; with Nose, he had, be- 
fore saying good-bye, a brief tussle over the 
possession of a piece of string, and he went off 
with a truculent remark concerning German Jews. 

He felt so much advanced in society by reason 
of this entrance into Drysdale Street circles that 
he declined games with boys of Pimlico Walk, 


A Son of the State 27 

and affected not to see Trixie Bell dancing a 
neighbour’s baby that was not quite so large as 
herself, but more muscular. Trixie called after 
him peremptorily, but he went by with his head 
well up, and eyes alert for signs of interest. In 
Charles Square his reserve was broken by sudden 
encounter with Ted Sullivan. Master Sullivan, 
in possession of a toy pistol with small paper caps, 
that snapped quite loudly, told Bobbie in con- 
fidence that he had half made up his mind to 
get a mask and go out somewhere and stop the 
mail coach; shoot the driver, and take all the 
gold and bank-notes that it carried. Upon 
Bobbie inquiring where Master Sullivan pro- 
posed to find this mail coach, the small boy with 
the pistol declared that there were plenty about 
if you only knew where to find them, and in 
confirmation exhibited the coloured paper cover 
of a well thumbed book called, u Dashing Dick 
Dare-devil, or the Highwayman and the Faithful 
Indian Girl,” and confronted with this evidence, 
Bobbie Lancaster relinquished his argument, and 
acknowledged that he might be wrong. Because 
these adventures are not to be entered upon with- 
out rehearsal and taking thought, the two had a 
brief game round the tipsy railings of the old 
square, and Bobbie, starting from the County 


28 


A Son of the State 


Court, was a restive steed conveying a stage- 
coach which bore untold gold, and just as he 
galloped round by the untidy public-house at the 
north-west corner, who should rush out upon 
him, but Master Sullivan with black dirt upon 
his face, so that he should not be recognised, and 
presenting the toy pistol with a confused warning, 
u Step but a single stir, and I fire.” 

Upon which, the restive steed tried to gallop 
over the highwayman, and to gallop round him, 
and eventually to turn and gallop back, and the 
highwayman was just on the point of snapping 
his last cap and rendering the noble horse sense- 
less when, most inopportunely, the highwayman’s 
mother appeared at the corner. 

u Teddy Sullivin ! Come here, ye mis’rable 
little hound, and let me knock the head off of ye, 
ye onholy son of a good parint that ye are.” 

This interruption left the struggle at a highly 
interesting point, but Master Sullivan, before leav- 
ing, said that he was going to get a proper revolver 
some day, and then there would be larks of the 
rarest and most exciting kind. Meanwhile, 
added Master Sullivan, as he went off, the watch- 
word was, “ Death to Injuns ! ” 

Bobbie after a highly enjoyable morning, went 
home, where, thanks to Mrs. Rastin, the house 


A Son of the State 29 

was reeking with a perfectly entrancing odour of 
frying steak and onions. To this meal Mrs. 
Rastin invited a lady from downstairs, who was 
called The Duchess, and who wore several cheap 
rings, and spoke with a tone of acquired refine- 
ment that had always impressed Bobbie very 
much. He remembered, though, that his mother 
had warned him never to speak to this lady from 
downstairs, and when that vivacious lady addressed 
him at the meal, he refused at first to answer her, 
thus forcing the conversation to be shared ex- 
clusively by the two ladies. They talked of rare 
tavern nights, and the lady from downstairs shook 
her head reminiscently, as she recalled diverting 
incidents of the past, and said that the world was 
no longer what it had been. 

“ Why, there ’s no Cremorne now,” argued 
the Duchess, affectedly. 

“True, true ! ” agreed Mrs. Rastin. 

“ Argyll Rooms and the rest of it, all swept 
away,” complained the Duchess. 

“It’s sickening,” said Mrs. Rastin.' “I s’pose 
they was rare times, if the truth was known.” 

“ You ’d never believe ! ” 

“ Onfortunately,” said Mrs. Rastin, humbly, 
cc I was country bred meself. I wasted all the 
best years of my life in service down in Essex.” 


30 


A Son of the State 


“ Why in my day,” remarked the Duchess, 
smoothing the torn lace at her sleeves, u in my 
day I ’ve sat at the same table with people that 
you could n’t tell from gentlefolk, thinking no 
more of champagne than we do of water.” 

“ My goodness ! ” 

“ Nobody never thought of walking,” declared 
the Duchess, ecstatically. “ It was cabs here, 
cabs there, cabs everywhere.” 

u That ’s the way,” said the interested Mrs. 
Rastin. 

u Talk about sparkling conversation,” said 
the Duchess, with enthusiasm. “ They can’t 
talk like it now, that’s a very sure thing.” 

ct I don’t know what ’s come over London,” 
remarked Mrs. Rastin, despairingly. “ It ’s more 
like a bloomin’ church than anything else. I 
s’pose you was a fine lookin’ young woman in 
those days, ma’am.” 

w I don’t suppose,” said the Duchess, “ there 
was ever a finer.” 

The night of that day was so extended by 
reason of a generous supply of drink, that Bobbie 
went to bed in the corner of the room, and left 
the two women still reviewing the days and nights 
that were. He understood their conversation 
imperfectly (although God knows there was little 


A Son of the State 


3i 


in the way of worldly knowledge that was hidden 
from him), but he decided that the Duchess was 
worthy of some respect, as one who had moved 
in society, and when she stumbled over to him, 
and kissed him and crooned a comic song as 
lullaby, he felt gratified. He remembered that 
his mother had kissed him once. It was when he 
was quite a child ; at about the time that his father 
died. For the first time he found himself think- 
ing of her, and his mouth twitched, but he bent 
his mind determinedly to the ride that he was to 
enjoy in the morning, and having persuaded him- 
self that everything had happened for the best, 
went presently to sleep, content. 

The journey the next morning proved, indeed, 
to be all that imagination had suggested ; with a 
high wind added that was nearly a hurricane. 
There was a new peaked cap for him to wear ; 
the white collar was fixed with difficulty, being 
by accident some two sizes too large, and bulging 
accordingly. Mrs. Rastin, swollen-eyed, partly 
with tears, assisted him to dress, being herself 
costumed in black garments, borrowed from 
opulent neighbours in the Walk. 

A man appeared whom Bobbie recognised as 
the boy Nose’s father, and he glancing round the 
room, said depreciatingly that there was nothing 


32 


A Son of the State 


there worth carting away, but Mrs. P^astin told 
him to look at the chest of drawers ; to look at 
the bedstead ; to look at the mirror. Mr. Nieder- 
mann, still contemptuous, said that if he gave fif- 
teen bob for the lot he should look down on him- 
self for being an adjective adjective idiot, Mrs. 
Rastin reasoning strongly against this attitude, say- 
ing that she was quite sure two pounds five would 
not hurt him. Mr. Niedermann intimated with 
much emphasis that, on the contrary, two pounds 
five would do him very grievous injury, apart from 
the fact that by offering that sum he would be 
making himself the laughing-stock of all Hoxton. 
A neighbour here looked in, and announced that 
the carriage was waiting, and after a sharp argu- 
ment conducted with great asperity on both sides, 
Mrs. Rastin climbed down from two pounds five, 
to one pound two and six, and Mr. Niedermann, 
with a generous flow of language that was in an 
inverse ratio to his manner of disbursing money, 
climbed up to that amount, and Mr. Niedermann’s 
men came in and took everything away, leaving 
the room empty and bare. Mr. Niedermann 
paid over the amount, assuring Mrs. Rastin and 
Bobbie that a few jobs of similar character would 
bankrupt him, and departed, and Mrs. Rastin 
acutely placed a small bag containing money 


A Son of the State 


33 


under a loose plank of the flooring, where, as 
she said to the Duchess, it would be, if anything, 
safer than in the Bank of England. The task 
completed, Mrs. Rastin showed them out and 
locked the door, placing the key under the mat. 
In Hoxton Street the carriage was waiting ; and 
the gloomy horses standing with feet extended, to 
avoid being blown away, looked round as the 
two came up through admiring rows of people, 
as who should say : u Oh, you have come, then, 
at last.” The scarlet-faced driver and his col- 
league were rubbing specks of mud off the black 
carriage; Trixie Bell was there, and she slipped 
a clammy piece of sweet-stuff into Bobbie’s hand 
as he was about to be lifted into the coach, which 
piece of sweet-stuff he instantly threw away, to 
the regret of Trixie Bell, and the joy of an infant 
at whose feet it was blown, and who apparently 
thought the age of miracles had come again. 
The wind took off Bobbie’s new cap, and carried 
it sportively into a puddle, and fifty people ran to 
recover it, and it came back with enough of the 
puddle to give it age, and Mrs. Rastin occupied 
the journey, as the two gloomy horses trotted on 
to the mortuary, in wise precepts to the effect 
that little boys who could n’t keep their new caps 
on, never by any dexterity or luck or artfulness 
3 


34 


A Son of the State 


went to heaven. Bobbie did not mind this ; he 
was too much interested in looking out of the 
window of the carriage. It seemed to him that 
it was like belonging to royal blood. 

“ ’Ere we are, at the gates,” said Mrs. Rastin, 
finding her handkerchief. u And now, mind you 
cry, and behave yourself properly like a good 
boy, or else when I get you ’ome, I ’ll give you 
the best shakin’ you ever had in all your born 
days.” 

w Don’t upset yourself,” said the boy. 

“ I ’ll upset you , me lord,” retorted Mrs. Rastin. 
“You’ll ’ave to be knocked into shape a bit 
before you ’ll be good for anything ; ’itherto, 
you ’ve been allowed to do too much jest as you 
dem well pleased.” 

“Now, who’s behavin’?” asked Bobbie, sat- 
irically. The carriage went slowly through the 
opened iron gates, and up the broad gravelled 
walk. “ Nice language to use in a churchyard, 
I don’t think ! ” 

“ It ’s your fault,” said Mrs. Rastin. 

“ It ’s you that ’ll get punished for it,” said the 
boy, “ anyway.” 

“Another word,” declared Mrs. Rastin, strenu- 
ously, “ and you don’t get out of the kerridge.” 

“Try it on,” said Bobbie, “ if you dare.” 


A Son of the State 35 

They had to wait some minutes outside the 
chapel, and the purple-faced driver came round 
to the window, and, holding his ruffled silk hat 
on, engaged Mrs. Rastin in conversation, men- 
tioning casually that he knew a place where 
presently as good a glass of beer could be obtained 
as the heart could desire. Mrs. Rastin promised 
to remember this, and mentioned that for the 
price, she thought it — meaning the coach and 
hearse — by no means a bad turn out. The 
purple-faced coachman took this compliment 
placidly, and remarked that it was cutting it pretty 
adjective fine to do the thing for two pun two, 
and if it was his show he should decline to put 
the harness on the horses under two pun twelve. 
If people liked to go and die, said the coachman 
firmly, let them pay for it. Mrs. Rastin remarked 
that she supposed it was what we must all come 
to, and the coachman said that Mrs. Rastin would 
be perfectly safe in laying all the money she had 
got on that. 

“ Now they ’re ready for us,” said the coach- 
man, and whistled to his colleague. 

Bobbie, following the draped case which was 
borne on the shoulders of the two men, was full 
of regret that he had no audience; Mrs. Rastin, 
blown about distractedly by the tempestuous wind, 


A Son cf the State 


36 

appeared too fully occupied to cry. The young 
curate in his white surplice, wore a skull cap, and 
looked resentfully at the elements as he spoke the 
opening words. The liturgy came to Bobbie’s ears 
in detachments when the wind rested for a moment. 

“ I am the resurrection and the life, saith the 
Lord, he that believeth on me though he were 
dead, yet . . .” 

“ Lord let me know mine end and the number 
of my days. . .” 

u Oh, spare me a little, that I may recover 
my strength before I go hence and be no more 
seen. . . .” 

The small procession moved to the shallow 
opening in the clay earth. The purple-faced 
driver and his stolid companion let the long- 
draped case down to the side of this opening, the 
driver complaining in an undertone of the other’s 
clumsiness ; as lief have a plank of wood to help 
him, growled the driver. The straps were placed 
round the long case ; the boy watching had 
difficulty in preventing himself from offering a 
word of advice. 

u Man that is born of woman hath but a short 
time to live. . . .” 

lc Suffer us not in our last hour from any pains 
of death to fall from Thee. ...” 


A Son of the State 


37 

The stolid man picked up a lump of dry clay 
and crumbled it. 

“ Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God 
of his great mercy to take unto Himself the soul 
of our dear sister here departed. . . .” 

Presently a prayer that Bobbie knew. He 
muttered it by rote, and without the least desire 
to consider the meaning of the words. “ Our 
Fa’r chart in ’Eaven, ’allowed be — ” The curate 
closed the book and controlled his white surplice 
from the vagaries of the gusty irreverent winds. 

<c The Grace of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and 
the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy 
Ghost be with us all evermore, Amen.” 

“ This the poor creature’s son ? ” asked the 
young curate briskly and cheerfully. 

“ Her only boy, sir.” 
u And you are his aunt, eh ? ” 
w No, sir! Only a well meanin’ neighbour; 
he ain’t got any rel’tives, worse luck.” 

tc So you ’re all alone in the world, my boy. 
(Bother the wind !) Now you must make up 
your mind to be a good lad, because there are 
plenty of people ready to help good lads, and very 
few who will waste their time over bad ones.” 

“ That ’s what / tell him, sir,” remarked Mrs. 
Rastin, ingratiatingly. 


A Son of the State 


38 

“ And don’t forget — ” The curate stopped and 
sneezed. u Enough to give anybody a cold/' 
he said. “ Good-bye, my lad.” 

u Say good-bye to the kind gentleman, Bobbie.” 
u So long!” said Bobbie, resenting the inter- 
ference of Mrs. Rastin. “ Look after that cold 
of yourn.” 

u Nice thing to say, upon my word,” declared 
Mrs. Rastin, manoeuvring the wind. w You’ve 
got no more idea of etiquette than a ’og. If it 
was n’t that your poor mother was laying there, 
poor thing, I ’d give you a jolly good ’iding.” 

u Let me ketch you trying at it,” said Bobbie, 
defiantly. 

Thus, without a tear, the boy left the edge of 
the oblong hole in the clay earth, and was blown 
back to the carriage. Though his eyes were dry, 
and his manner aggressive, there was a regretful 
feeling, now that all the excitement was over, 
that he had to resume his position of an ordinary 
boy with no longer any special claims to respect 
in Hoxton. He wondered vaguely what the next 
few days would be like. He was not capable 
of looking beyond that. At the gates, Mrs. 
Rastin alighted to patronise the house of refresh- 
ment so urgently recommended by the driver, 
and whilst that purple-faced gentleman conducted 


A Son of the State 


39 

her to the private bar, Bobbie remained in the 
the carriage, and the other man came round and 
looked stolidly in through the window, without 
saying a word, as though Bobbie were a new 
arrival at the Zoo. When Mrs. Rastin, in ex- 
cellent humour, returned, she brought a seed bis- 
cuit for Bobbie, and told him that he was a model 
boy, and she wished there were six of him for 
her to look after. 

“ You run ’ome to your room,” said Mrs. 
Rastin, when the carriage stopped in Hoxton 
Street, “ the key ’s under the mat, and I sha’ n’t 
be many minutes ’fore I’m with you. Wait for 
me, there ’s a deer. I must have a drop of some- 
thing short.” 

In the Walk he was hailed. 

ct I say, Bobbie Lancaster ! ” 

cc Now, what is it ? ” 

w My mother says,” began Trixie Bell, panting, 
u that you — ” 

“ 1 don’t talk to gels,” said the boy, marching 
on. 

ct Says that you ain’t in — ” 

u Be off, I tell you. Don’t let me ’ave to speak 
twice.” 

tc That you ain’t in good ’ands, where you are 
>» 


now. 


40 


A Son of the State 


u Ain’t what ? ” 

Miss Bell, persistent, repeated the statement. 

“ You ’ll pardon me,” said the boy laboriously, 
u if I ast a rude question. Is your mother still 
kerrying on her bisness ? ” 
u She is,” said Trixie. 

“Very well, then,” he said, going on, “tell her 
to jolly well mind it.” 

“ She says they ’re a bad lot,” shouted the 
little girl, u and she says they won’t do you no 
good.” 

w Don’t make me come back and pull your ’air 
for you,” entreated Bobbie. 

“ Cow — werd ! ” bawled Miss Trixie Bell. 
w Cat ! ” shouted Mr. Robert Lancaster. 
Looking back as he pressed open the black 
door, he saw that the youth called Nose was talk- 
ing to the small girl, and he was tempted to 
return and punish both of them, but it occurred 
to him that a man with a collar could not afford 
to appear undignified. He went upstairs. The 
key was not under the mat, and he sat astride 
the rickety banisters, and waited. He had 
found, that morning, a half emptied box of fusees, 
and the time did not seem long. 

cc Don’t tell me the key ain’t under the mat!” 
said Mrs. Rastin, truculently, as she came up the 


A Son of the State 


4i 

stairs. “You’re too lazy to look for it; that’s 
about the truth ; you little — ” 
u Find it yourself, then.” 

“ Why, ’ere it is in the door,” said Mrs. Rastin, 
u in the door all the time.” She unlocked it. 
w Ain’t you got no eyes, you good-for-nothing ? ” 
Mrs. Rastin stumbled over the mat, and went into 
the dark room. u Light a match, when I keep 
telling you.” 

In the room, Bobbie held up one of the flaming 
fusees ; Mrs. Rastin blinked ; looked round, and 
screamed shrilly. 

“ Murder ! ” she wailed. u Murder ! P’lice ! 
Fire ! Thieves ! ” She gasped and recovered 
her breath. u Every penny gone of the money 
that was to keep the young — ” 

u What money ? ” asked the boy. The ques- 
tion seemed to goad Mrs. Rastin to fury. 

u Out you go, you little devil ! ” she cried 
furiously. She took him by the back of his 
neck. 

w Mind my collar,” he shouted. 

“ Out of it ! ” she screamed. w I was goin’ 
to be good-natured enough to keep you whilst the 
bloomin’ money lasted, but now I ’ve had enough 
of it.” She lugged him out, despite his kicks, to 
the landing. u Now then, down you go.” 


42 


A Son of the State 


Bobbie fell down the staircase to the bottom. 
The commotion had excited the house, and doors 
were open. 

“ Come in ’ere,” said the Duchess, kindly. 
She was in an old, old satin gown, her lean rope- 
like throat was uncovered. cc You come and 
live ’long of us. I ’ve of’en wanted a child of 


me own. 


A Son of the State 


43 


CHAPTER III 

HpHE Duchess and Mr. Leigh, her husband, 
left Pimlico Walk somewhat hurriedly 
the next morning with two barrow-loads of furni- 
ture and Bobbie Lancaster. Pimlico Walk, led 
by Mrs. Rastin, did not hesitate to give them 
verbal testimonials as to character ; the husband, 
Mrs. Rastin suggested, had robbed her of some 
one else’s hard-earned savings ; The Duchess was 
condemned severely by those to whom she had 
in effusive moments given her confidence. The 
Duchess’s husband was a quiet resigned looking 
man with a fringe of whiskers that met under- 
neath his chin, his behaviour always conveyed 
the impression that he only desired to be let alone, 
in order that he might do good in a quiet un- 
obtrusive way. In regard to conversation, he 
was curt ; he never used superfluous words, and 
before he spoke he always drew in a whistling 
breath, and looked around cautiously, as one 
anxious above all things not to incriminate him- 
self. He, for his part, took the attacks of the 


44 


A Son of the State 


neighbours quite stolidly, and when the Duchess, 
so indignant that she dropped a glass candlestick 
with lustres, essayed to reply, he told her to hold 
her tongue, and to come on. 

“ Least said,” remarked the Duchess’s husband, 
“ soonest mended. Give us a pound with this 
barrer.” 

M And I ’ope,” screamed Mrs. Rastin, u that 
the money ; 11 prove a curse to you, if so be that 
you ’re the party that took it. What ’ll become 
of the poor kid, don’t bear thinking of.” 

“You thought you was going to have a ’igh 
old time,” retorted the Duchess, “ and you ’re 
disappointed. Moment the money was spent, 
you were going to turn the poor boy out neck 
and crop.” 

“ Don’t you measure other ladies by yourself, 
ma’am,” shouted Mrs. Rastin. “You’re nothing 
more nor less than — ” 

“ Come on ! ” said the Duchess’s husband, 
calmly. 

“ But,” urged the trembling Duchess, “ did 
you ’ear what she called me ? ” 

“ What ’s it matter ? ” remarked the man. 

Bobbie, helping to push one of the barrows 
through the Walk, had the happy feeling that he 
was really the cause of the disturbance, and that 


A Son of the State 


45 


he was engaged in making history very fast. 
Trixie Bell’s mother, standing at the door of her 
small bonnet shop, shook her head dolefully as she 
saw him, and Bobbie made a grimace at her that 
checked the excellent woman’s sympathy. Be- 
hind the shop window, Trixie Bell herself looked 
out between the ostrich feathered hats, with round 
astonished eyes. 

“ What ’s the number, Leigh ? ” 

Mr. Leigh gave the information, as the two 
barrows turned from Hoxton Street into Ely 
Place. Ely Place was broader than Pimlico Walk, 
but it was a grim mysterious way, and it had none 
of the shops which served to make Pimlico Walk 
an interesting thoroughfare; certainly a few of 
the cottages had in front a plot with a slate 
coloured lawn, but these were in every case 
flagged, with deplorable drying linen suspended 
from strings, that destroyed any pretence of 
rusticity. Before one of these the barrows 
stopped. 

A long young woman, with sleeves folded back 
high above her elbow, her red hair in a single 
knot, was sweeping the step casually with a bald 
broom. 

“ ’Ullo,” she said, “you ’ve arrived, then.” 

Mr. Leigh seemed about to reply in the afHr- 


A Son of the State 


46 

mative, but he stopped himself, and left the con- 
fession to the Duchess. 

“ Bat ’s gone out in the Kingsland Road,” 
went on the red-haired young woman. 

“What for?” asked the Duchess, unloading 
the barrows. 

“To get change,” said the young woman. 

This reply amused the Duchess so much, that, 
casting away resentment against the world in 
general, and Pimlico Walk in particular, she 
rested a chair bedstead in the dim passage, and 
sat down upon it to enjoy the laugh. Bobbie, 
anxious to show that he was one of the family, 
laughed too ; and Mr. Leigh almost smiled. 

“ You are a caution ! ” said the Duchess, ex- 
haustedly. 

“ What ’ave I said, now ? ” asked the young 
woman, with all a humorist’s assumption of 
gravity. 

“ It is n’t so much what you say, as your 
manner.” 

“ This your tenth ? ” asked the girl, resting her 
chin on the broom, and nodding her head in the 
direction of Bobby. 

“ He ’s a little chap,” explained the amused 
Duchess, “ that ’s left without a parent, and we ’re 
going to look after him. Ain’t we, Leigh ? ” 


A Son of the State 


47 


cc Don’t ast me,” begged Mr. Leigh. 

u He ’ll come in useful,” whispered the Duchess. 

“ Bat don’t care for kids about the place.” 

“ He ’s as knowing,” urged the Duchess, u as 
a grown up.” 

“ This is only our town house,” explained the 
red-haired young woman to Bobbie. “ Rather 
’andsome palatial sort of mansion, don’t you 
think ? ” 

“Tell better,” said Bobbie, looking round, 
“ when some one ’s give it a good clean down. 
What ’s in the room at the back ? ” 

“You ast my ’usband that question when he 
comes ’ome,” said the young woman, with sudden 
acerbity, “ and he ’ll strap you till he ’s tired.” 

“ Sha’ n’t ask him, then,” said Bobbie. 

“ Don’t you pry, Bobbie,” counselled the 
Duchess, warningly. “ Little boys that go pry- 
ing, never come to no good. Carry that lamp 
upright, and don’t upset the oil, or I ’ll upset 
you.” 

Bobbie submitted to Mr. Bat Miller upon that 
gentleman’s return from obtaining change in 
Kingsland Road, was so fortunate as to obtain 
favour, and Bat M-iller, after telling the young 
woman, who seemed of a jealous disposition, 
exactly how his time had been occupied, ruffled 


48 A Son of the State 

the boy’s head of hair, and told him that if he 
behaved himself he should learn in that house 
everything that was worth knowing. cc But none 
of your tricks, mind ! ” said Mr. Bat Miller. As 
a first test, Mr. Miller took a bright two shilling 
from an inside pocket of his waistcoat, and, ’spite 
the protests of the two women, dispatched him 
with it to a certain shop in Hackney Road to 
purchase one ounce of shag. When Bobbie 
returned, panting, with the tobacco in a screw of 
paper, and the change safely in his fist, Bat Miller 
first tested the coins by trying them with his 
teeth, and then gave Bobbie for himself a penny, 
some of the tobacco, and commendation in con- 
gratulatory but lurid terms. Then the two men 
went out together, and the Duchess and young 
Mrs. Bat Miller exchanged grievances, Mrs. 
Miller complaining a good deal of her husband’s 
irregular behaviour •, and presently they too, find- 
ing themselves in agreement on several questions, 
went out, locking the boy in that he might look 
after the house. They promised to be absent 
for not more than two seconds, but by some 
error, they made it two hours, and during that 
time Bobbie prowled over the house and went 
into every room, excepting only the locked-up 
room at the back of the ground floor. 


A Son of the State 49 

At the door of this locked-up room, he listened 
very carefully. The key-hole was plugged, and 
he could see nothing, but he kept his ear to the 
door for some time. It seemed to him that a 
sound of heavy breathing came from within. 

The two couples came home in admirable 
temper. Even Mr. Leigh’s attitude to the world 
seemed less guarded, and several times he appeared 
inclined to sing with the rest. They brought 
in with them fried potatoes in paper, fish, and a 
large bottle ; and Bobbie, to his astonishment and 
great satisfaction, was allowed to help himself. 
The Duchess repeated the anecdotes of high life 
in the sixties that Bobbie had heard before, 
Mr. Leigh watching her with pride as she assumed 
her accent of refinement, and ordering her to tell 
more than one account of a past evening twice 
over. Later, young Mrs. Miller let her knot of 
red hair down, and recited a touching poem about 
a Russian mother who was being torn from her 
family to endure punishment in Siberia, and who 
apparently objected to it very much, and pleaded 
with the soldiers, but with no avail, until presently 
her youngest born argued with them ; and then 
the officer in charge, relenting, kissed the babe, 
and said, “ Your mother’s safe, my darling child. 
To you she owes her life; For I, too, have an 


A Son of the State 


50 

infant mild, Also a loving wife.” At which 
pleasing point the recital finished, leaving the 
hearers content, with perhaps a slight fear that 
the tender-hearted officer might have had some 
trouble in explaining his conduct to his superior 
officers. Then Mr. Bat Miller, who was a little 
sleepy, sang a long, long song, relating vaguely to 
the sea, with a refrain of, “ What ho for the roll- 
ing wave, me boys ! And a life on the vasty 
deep ! ” and when he had finished, the Duchess 
consented, after a good deal of pressing, to give 
her imitation of a well known serio-comic lady 
whose star had been high some twenty-five years 
previously, a performance requiring a hiccough 
that the Duchess had no difficulty in repeating. 
Bobbie had seldom enjoyed an afternoon so 
much. 

“ Time for the Fright’s ’alf pint ain’t it,” said 
Mr. Leigh. 

The wooden clock on the mantel-piece had 
just struck twelve, as notification that it was 
now six o’clock. 

“ Enough left in the jug, ain’t there ? ” asked 
Mrs. Miller. 

“ Bit fiat ! ” 

“ He don’t care whether it ’s flat or round,” 
said the humorous young woman. “It’s all one 


A Son of the State 


5i 

to the Fright. Bat, wake up and look after your 
lodger.” 

Bat Miller awakened, took the large bottle, and 
went out into the passage. 

44 Come back, Bobbie ! ” cried the Duchess, 
sharply. The boy did not obey, being, indeed, 
accustomed to persist in doing anything that he 
was told not to do. Mr. Leigh rushed out, and 
catching him, swung him back into the room. 
The two women boxed his ears. 

44 Stiddy ! ” said the boy resentfully. 44 Three 
to one ’s plenty.” 

44 I ’ve told you before not to pry,” said the 
Duchess. 

44 Who was prying ? ” 

44 Look ’ere ! ” said Mr. Leigh, as peace-maker. 
44 Come out ’long o’ me ! ” 

44 Where you goin’, Leigh ? ” 

44 Station,” he said. 

44 Ain’t you reported yourself, yet ? ” 

44 1 ain’t,” said Mr. Leigh, finding his cap. 

44 You’ll get yourself into trouble, some day,” 
remarked the Duchess. 

44 Would n’t be the first time,” interposed young 
Mrs. Miller. 

44 Got the ticket with you ? ” 

44 Course I ’ave.” 


52 


A Son of the State 


Mr. Leigh took from his inside pocket a sheet 
of paper about the size of an ordinary letter; he 
replaced it in an envelope, and led Bobbie out of 
the house. In Kingsland Road they turned to 
the right. Opposite were the long, low alms- 
houses standing in their own grounds, and pro- 
tected by a low iron spiked wall. The two went 
towards Shoreditch. 

M Where are we going to book to,” asked 
Bobbie, u when we get to the station ? ” Mr. 
Leigh did not answer. u Going for ride in the 
train, ain’t we ? ” 

“ No ! ” 

u What station are we going to, then ? ” 
cc Police station.” 

“ ’Ere ! ” said the boy, stopping. “ None of 
your ’alf larks ! ” 

“ You ’re all right, kiddy.” 

M What ’s the row, then ? ” 

“ No row,” said Mr. Leigh. w Slight fermality, 
that ’s all.” 

Bobbie’s fears proved groundless. Mr. Leigh 
went up the steps of the police station, where 
one or two uniformed men and one or two men 
in plain clothes were standing under the blue 
lamp, and these nodded to Mr. Leigh. Bobbie 
stood in the hall in order that, necessity arising, 


A Son of the State 


53 


he might make swift escape, and Mr. Leigh, 
taking off his cap respectfully, tapped at a wooden 
window. The window opened ; the face of an 
Inspector appeared. 

u Evenin’, sir,” said Mr. Leigh. 

u Well, me man ? ” 

u Nice bright cold autumn weather, sir,” said 
Mr. Leigh, holding his cap between his teeth, and 
finding the sheet of paper. w Soon be ’aving 
winter on us now.” 

u I thought it had turned warmer,” said the 
Inspector, taking a book down. 

u P’raps you ’re right, sir,” said Mr. Leigh, 
obsequiously. 

u I ought to remember your name,” said the 
Inspector, turning over the pages of the book. 
u Begins with an L, don’t it ? ” 

“You’re right again, sir. Name of Leigh — 
Abraham Leigh.” 

u I ’ve found it,” said the Inspector, who had 
been running his finger down the page. tt Got 
the ticket ? ” 

Mr. Leigh passed in the sheet of letter paper, 
and the Inspector, comparing it with the entry 
in the book, endorsed it. 

“ Seems all right,” said the Inspector. 

“ Slight alteration of address,” remarked Mr. 


54 A Son of the State 

Leigh, humbly. cc Now residing at 112 Ely 
Place.” 

“ Rum quarter,” said the Inspector, as he made 
a note. 

“ Must live somewhere, sir,” submitted Mr. 
Leigh. 

u Great thing, wherever you live, is to live right.” 

“You’re correct there, sir.” 

w Going on straight, now ? ” asked the In- 
spector, as he handed the note back. 

“ Rather,” answered Mr. Leigh, complacently. 
“Turned over a new leaf, I ’ave.” 

“ Good ! ” 

“ Other bisness don’t pay, sir,” said Mr. Leigh, 
replacing the folded sheet of paper in his pocket. 
u It ’s a mug’s game, that ’s what I call it. Good 
day, sir.” 

“ Good day, me man.” Shutting the window 
to, with a decisive snap. 

Mr. Leigh, coming down the steps with Bobbie, 
was spoken to casually by one of the plain clothes 
men, who, in an uninterested way, asked Mr. 
Leigh some questions concerning (it appeared to 
the boy) mutual acquaintances, but Mr. Leigh 
seemed unable to give the plain clothes man any 
of the information desired, complaining, as excuse, 
of decaying powers of memory. 


A Son of the State 


55 

cc I think it must be I ’m getting old, Mr. 
Thorpe, sir.” 

u That ’ll grow on you,” said the plain clothes 
man, w if you are n’t careful.” 

u I can’t remember names,” declared Mr. 
Leigh, complainingly ; u I can’t remember faces ; 
I can’t remember any mortal thing.” 
w Ah ! ” said the detective, “ pity ! ” 

At Ely Place everything was in train, the day 
being special and the evening also out of the 
ordinary, for a visit to the theatre. Some ques- 
tion arose in regard to the wisdom of leaving the 
house alone; but young Mrs. Miller said that 
she was n’t going to be left out of it, if Bat were 
going, the Duchess said it was n’t often she got 
the chance, Mr. Leigh said he did n’t see no 
particular harm in going to the play, Bat Miller 
said that too much work told on a man, that 
the Fright would be safe enough, and it would 
make a nice change for all of them. So they all 
went. Bat Miller locked the door with great care, 
and in five minutes they were finding their way up 
the broad stone stairs of the Britannia, with a 
struggling, anxious, noisy, good-tempered crowd. 

“ Right sort ! ” suggested Mr. Leigh, in a 
whisper to Bat Miller, as they forced their way 
to the pay box. 


56 A Son of the State 

“ I ’m sure,” agreed Bat Miller. “ Don’t want 
no fuss ’ere.” He pinched the ear of a dark 
young woman in front of him. “ I ’ll have your 
black eyes,” he said admiringly. 

“ You’ll get two of your own if you ain’t care- 
ful,” retorted the girl, not displeased. 

“ Should n’t mind being punched by you,” said 
Bat Miller. “ Let me keep these others from 
scrouging you.” 

u Bat ! ” cried a voice behind him. 

u Now, begin agin.” 

“ Leave off talkin’ to that nigger gel ! ” com- 
manded young Mrs. Miller. 

“ Who are you callin’ a nigger gel,” inquired 
the dark young woman across the heads of the 
surging crowd, “ Carrots ? ” 

“You,” replied Mrs. Miller, frankly, “Miss 
Tar Brush.” 

“Don’t answer her,” begged Mr. Bat Miller, 
to his new acquaintance. “ She ’s so jealous, 
she can’t see straight.” 

“ I pity you,” said the dark young woman. 

“ So do I,” said Mr. Miller, softly. “ Lemme 
get your ticket for you.” 

A roaring, noisy, crowded gallery, like the side 
of a mountain going from the base, with strong 
iron rods protecting up to the topmost point, where 


A Son of the State 


57 

patrons had to bend their backs to escape the 
ceiling. General discardment of coats by men 
and boys, universal doffing of hats and bonnets, 
and loosening of blouses by ladies. Bobbie, 
perched on the rolled up coats of the two men, 
saw at a distance of what seemed at first to be 
several miles below, the tightly wedged people 
on the floor of the theatre, packed closely to the 
very footlights, and leaving just sufficient room for 
a small orchestra. Mrs. Bat Miller, still trembling 
with annoyance, bought oranges, and selecting one 
over ripe, stood up and threw it, and more by 
luck than skill managed to hit the dark young 
woman seated below, well on the side of the face, 
where it burst shell-like and caused annoyance. 
Having done this, young Mrs. Miller seemed 
more content, and twisting up her rope of red 
hair, settled down to unrestrained enjoyment of 
the evening. 

“ I would n’t ’ave your dispisition,” said Mr. 
Bat Miller to her wistfully, “ for a bloomin’ 
pension.” 

Bobbie felt pleased to see the two boys from 
Drysdale Street far above him; they would 
require all the austerity that a railway arch 
could give, to prevent them from feeling en- 
vious of him. He held up a piece of apple, 


58 A Son of the State 

and shouted above the babel of voices, “ ’Ave 
’alf ? ” and when they screamed back, w Yus ! ” he 
ate it all calmly ; thus goading them to a state of 
speechless vexation. Everybody called to every- 
body else ; the enormous theatre filled with ap- 
peals for recognition. Presently, through the 
uproar could be heard the discordant tuning up 
of the violins ; and holding the Duchess’s thin 
arm, he looked down again and saw that the 
orchestra had come in. 

The footlights being turned up, the violins 
began to play; the Duchess said it was nothing 
to the Alhambra in the old days, but Bobbie 
felt this could not be true. When the cur- 
tain ascended and the uniformed men posted in 
various quarters of the large theatre bawled for 
silence, Bobbie held tightly to the Duchess, for 
fear that he might be tempted to jump over. 

It was not easy to discover at first the true 
intent of the play, because the gallery did not at 
once become quiet ; and two fights and a faint 
were necessary before quietude could be obtained. 
When the words from the far-off stage came up 
more distinctly to Bobbie’s quick ears, he realised 
that a plot was being arranged by two gentle- 
manly men in evening dress to rob the bank of 
the sum of fifty thousand pounds ; and it seemed 


A Son of the State 59 

that they wished to do this unobtrusively, and 
indeed desired that any credit for its success 
should be placed to the account, not of them- 
selves, but of the manager of the bank. The 
manager came on just then, to a majestic air 
from the orchestra; the audience seemed to know 
him, for they cheered, and he stood in the 
centre of the stage, bowing condescendingly, 
before he commenced to interest himself in the 
drama. He was rather a noble-looking young 
man, a little stout perhaps, with a decided way 
of speaking. You could hear every word he 
said, and when he had to make any movement, 
the orchestra played briskly, as though to in- 
timate that whatever misfortune might cross his 
path, he had always the support of four fiddlers, 
two bass viols, a cornet, a pianist, and a trombone. 
The two villains intimated their desire to open 
an account at the bank. The manager asked for 
references. The two villains, first looking cau- 
tiously off at the wings, to make sure that no 
one observed them, suddenly flung themselves 
on the bank manager. They were engaged in 
binding him with ropes, when a ragged boy (who 
the Duchess said was not a boy but a girl) 
jumped in at the window, and said : 

“ What price me ! ” 


6o 


A Son of the State 


Upon which the two villains instantly decamped ; 
the ragged boy summoned the clerks (who, rea- 
sonably speaking, should have heard the struggle, 
but apparently did not), and the manager ordered 
that the ragged boy should be offered a highly 
responsible post in the bank. “ For,” said the 
manager to the gallery, “ of what use is sterling 
honesty in this world if it be not liberally re- 
warded ? ” a sentiment with which the gallery 
found itself able to express cordial agreement. In 
the next scene, the two gentlemanly villains, 
undeterred by their rebuff, were seen in a vague 
light, drilling with caution the cardboard door 
of an immense safe of the bank. They had 
but just succeeded, when voices were heard. 
Plaintive music and entrance of heroine ; dressed 
in white, she had come to bring a posy of 
flowers to the manager, whom it appeared 
she was to marry on the morrow. This visit 
seemed unnecessary and it was certainly in- 
discreet ; after the manager had surprised her, 
and had given to the gallery a few choice 
opinions on the eternal power of Love, which 
made Mrs. Bat Miller so agitated that her rope 
of red hair became untied, the heroine went, 
after an affectionate farewell, leaving a note on 
the floor. 


A Son of the State 61 

w You’ve dropped something, Miss,” shouted 
Bobbie. 

“ ’Ush,” warned the Duchess. “ That’s done 
a purpose.” 

This note the villains found, after a struggle 
with the girl-boy, who demanding of them, u What 
price me ? ” was clubbed on the head and left 
insensible. The note only required a slight 
alteration, with the tearing off of one page, to be 
construed into evidence of complicity in the crime, 
so that when in the next scene, a cheerful wed- 
ding party in secondhand clothes came out of 
the church door, bells ringing, villagers strewing 
flowers, and wedding march from the orchestra, 
two constables suddenly pushed their way through 
the crowd, and placed hands on the shoulders of 
the astonished bride, causing so much consterna- 
tion that the bells stopped, the wedding march 
changed into a hurried frantic movement, what time 
the bride clutched at her bodice, and assured the 
gallery (but this they knew full well) that she was 
innocent. A boy inspector with a piping voice 
stepped forward, and proceeded to act in accord- 
ance with stage law. “Woman, I arrest you.” 
“ Oh, sir ! explain.” M This letter (said the 
inspector), in your handwriting, was found in the 
bank after the robbery.” “ Sir,” said the tearful 


62 


A Son of the State 


bride, u ’t is true I wrote that letter, but — ” 
“Woman ” (said the stern boy inspector), “pre- 
varication is useless ; who were your accomplices ? 
You decline to answer? Good! Officers, do 
your duty.” w Scoundrels ” (shouted the bride- 
groom bank manager), u unhand her. Before 
God she is innocent as the driven snow, I swear 
it.” u Ho, ho ! ” (remarked the boy inspector, 
acutely putting two and two together), “ then this 
can only mean ” — here the orchestra became 
quite hysterical — “ that you yourself are guilty. 
Officers, arrest him also ! ” u May heaven,” 
begged the bride, emotionally, addressing the gal- 
lery, u may Heaven in its great mercy protect the 
innocent, and the pure ! ” 

It seemed that Heaven proved somewhat tardy 
in responding to the heroine’s appeal, for, from a 
quarter to eight until a quarter to eleven, she and 
the hero found themselves in a succession of 
the direst straits which, apportioned with justice, 
would have been more than enough for fifty young 
couples. It did seem that they could not, by any 
dexterity, do the right thing ; whereas the two 
villains, on the contrary, prospered exceedingly, 
to the special annoyance of Mr. Bat Miller, who, 
constituting himself leader of a kind of vigilance 
committee in the hot perspiring gallery, led off 


A Son of the State 63 

the hisses whenever either or both appeared, and 
at certain moments — as for instance, when in the 
hospital ward they lighted their cigarettes, and 
discussed cynically the prospect of the injured 
boy’s speedy departure from life — hurling down at 
them appropriate and forcible words of reproof 
that did credit alike to his invention and to the 
honesty of his feelings. 

It is only fair to add that the gallery gave to 
Mr. Miller ready and unanimous assistance. How 
they yelled with delight when the boy (who was a 
girl) defied one of the villains, and bade him do 
his worst ! How they shivered when the villain, 
producing a steel dagger, crept furtively up to the 
boy, whose back was turned, and how they 
shouted with rapture as the boy, swinging 
round at exactly the right moment, presented a 
revolver at the villain’s forehead, causing that 
despicable person to drop the dagger, and go weak 
at the knees. How they held their breath, when, 
on the boy incautiously laying down the re- 
volver, and going to look at the wings, the villain 
obtained possession of the deadly weapon and 
covered the boy with it. And then, when the 
boy had affected to cower and to beg for mercy, 
(which it need hardly be said the villain flatly 
declined to grant), how they screamed with mad 


A Son of the State 


64 

ecstasy, on the boy saying with sudden calm, “ By 
the bye ! Had n’t you better make sure that that 
little popgun ’s loaded ? ” — causing the villain 
to curse his fate, and to snap the trigger in- 
effectually, thus giving the boy a cue for saying 
once more , — 

u What price me ! ” 

Bobbie, in support, whistled and hissed and 
howled so much that after a while he became 
exhausted, and to his regret found himself unable 
to express opinions with vigour ; this did not, 
however, prevent him from weeping bitter tears 
over the hospital scene. It was in the hospital 
scene, as a matter of fact, that the luck of the 
hero and heroine turned. The injured youngster 
suddenly recovered sight and reason ; denounced 
the two villains, now cringing beneath the trium- 
phant, hysterical theatre ; called upon the boy 
inspector, fortunately at the wings, to arrest them, 
which the boy inspector instantly did, thus re- 
trieving his position in the esteem of the audience ; 
amid an increasing hum of approval from the 
mountain of heads irr front, the youngster ar- 
ranged from his couch for the future happiness 
of the hero and heroine, capping it all, and 
extracting a roar from the house by remarking, — 
u Now, what price me ! ” 


A Son of the State 65 

Which might have been the pure essence dis- 
tilled from all the best jokes of all time, judg- 
ing from its instantaneous and admirable effect. 
Then the hero and heroine, at the centre of the 
stage, managed to intimate that sunshine had 
broken through the clouds ; that, trustful and 
loving, they would now proceed to live a life of 
absolute peace and perfect happiness ; the or- 
chestra, feeling itself rewarded at last for all its 
faithful attention, broke out into a triumphant 
march and — rideau ! 

In Hoxton Street, it was drizzling, and the 
crowd surging out of the doorway turned up its 
coat collars, and tied handkerchiefs over its bon- 
nets and set off for home. Bobbie, dazed with 
excitement, clutched the Duchess’s yellow skirt, 
and trotted along after a minute’s rest at a whelk 
stall, the two men and Mrs. Miller following 
closely behind. At the corner of Essex Street, 
they waited to allow a four-wheeler to go by. 
The elderly horse, checked by the driver, slipped 
and nearly fell, recovered itself and slipped again, 
made vain efforts to get a secure footing, and 
upon the driver standing up to use his whip, and 
saying bitterly ; u Why don’t you fall down and 
’ave done with it ? ” did fall down, and remained 
there. A small crowd formed without a mo- 


5 


66 


A Son of the State 


merit’s delay ; Mr. Bat Miller went to the stout 
old gentleman inside the cab, now trying with- 
out success to let down the window, and open- 
ing the door assured him with great courtesy 
that he had no cause for fear. Having done 
this, Mr. Miller re-closed the door and stepped 
back. He passed something furtively to red- 
haired Mrs. Miller, who slipped the something 
into Bobbie’s pocket, telling him in a command- 
ing whisper to cut off home like mad. Bobbie, 
feeling that he was helping in some proceeding 
of an imperial nature, complied, noting, as he darted 
away, the very stout gentleman hammering with 
his fists at the closed window of the four-wheeler. 
Mr. Miller sauntered off Kingsland Road way ; 
the two women and Mr. Leigh went unconcern- 
edly to a public house. 

Bobbie was shivering when, five minutes later, 
the company rejoined him at the street door of 
the house in Ely Place. Mr. Miller found his 
key and let them in. The smelly lamp in the 
passage burned low j in the closed back room 
a quavering voice sang a hymn. 

u Dare to be a Dantyul , 
u Dare to stand alone , 
u Dare to y ave a purpose firm , 

4t And dare — ” 


A Son of the State 67 

“ Shut it ! ” commanded Bat Miller, knocking 
at the door of the back room sharply. “ Get off 
to sleep, can’t you ? ” He turned to the others. 
w And now,” he said, with a change of manner, 
“ let ’s see what kind of a little present this young 
genelman ’s bin and brought ’ome for us.” 

u I b’lieve he pinched it for me,” said young 
Mrs. Miller, cheerfully, u ’cause to-day is n’t my 
birthday.” 

Bobbie, with something of majesty, brought 
from his pocket a heavy gold watch and part of a 
gold chain and laid them on the table. The 
four put their heads together, and examined the 
property. Then they beamed round upon the 
small boy. 

“ I foresee, Bobbie,” said the Duchess, in com- 
plimentary tones, “ that you’re a goin’ to grow up 
a bright, smart, useful young chep.” 

“ He ’ll want trainin’,” suggested Mr. Bat 
Miller. 

“ And watchin’,” growled Mr. Leigh. 

“ And when he gets to be a man,” said young 
Mrs. Miller, facetiously, as she pulled off her 
boots, “ all the gels in the neighbourhood ’ll be 
after him.” 

With these praises clanging and resounding in 
his heated little brain, Bobbie went upstairs to bed. 


68 


A Son of the State 


CHAPTER IV 

F OR nearly a year Bobbie Lancaster lived his 
young life in Ely place. Although every day 
was not so full of incident as the first, he could not 
charge dulness against his existence ; the standard 
of happiness set up in Ely Place, not being a high 
one, was therefore easily reached ; monotony at 
any rate came rarely. When other plans failed, 
quarrels could always be relied upon, and these 
gave such joy, not only to the chief actors and 
actresses, but also to the audience, that it seemed 
small wonder so successful a performance should 
be frequently repeated. Now and again events 
occurred which flattered Bobbie and gave him 
the dearest satisfaction a small boy can experi- 
ence — that of being treated as though he were 
grown up. It had not taken Mr. Leigh and 
Mr. Bat Miller long to recognise that in Bobbie 
they had a promising apprentice; one so obsti- 
nately honest as to be of great assistance to 
them in their dishonest profession. They exer- 
cised due caution in taking him into their confi- 


A Son of the State 69 

dence. For instance, he was still at the end of the 
year not sure why it was that the back room on 
the ground floor remained always locked ; why its 
windows, facing a yard and overlooked by the huge, 
straggling workhouse, were closely shuttered. He 
knew that a man worked there ; he knew that this 
man was called the Fright, and Mrs. Miller, on one 
expansive evening when in admirable humour, told 
him that the Fright was by trade a silverchaser. 
Presuming on some additional knowledge, acquired 
at a time when supposed to be asleep, he demanded 
of the two men further particulars ; Mr. Bat Miller 
replied, fiercely, that spare the rod and spoil the 
child had never been his motto, and thereupon 
gave Bobbie the worst thrashing that the boy had 
ever dreamed of. Following this the boy found 
himself for some days treated with great coldness 
by the adult members of the household and made 
to feel that he was no longer in the movement. 
When either of the men went out in the evening 
the boy was not permitted to go also ; he found 
himself deprived of adventurous excursions into the 
suburbs ; the casual loafing about at busy railway 
stations was denied to him. So keenly did he 
feel this ostracism that he had tumultuous thoughts 
of giving himself up to the School Board Inspector, 
whom he had hitherto dodged, and of devoting his 


A Son of the State 


70 

time to the acquirement of useful knowledge ; it is 
right to add that the idea of betraying any of the 
secrets which he had learnt concerning the habits of 
the two men never for a moment occurred to him. 
An alternative was to buy a revolver similar to 
the one possessed by Teddy Sullivan and to go out 
somewhere and shoot someone. The latter faintly 
sketched plan was rubbed out because Master 
Sullivan, his friend, encountered disaster one even- 
ing in Union Street. In the course of a strenuous 
hand-to-hand fight between Hackney Road boys 
and Hoxton boys, a point arrived where the Hoxton 
boys found themselves badly worsted, whereupon 
Master Sullivan, with a sentence plagiarised from 
a penny romance which he knew almost by heart, 
“Ten thousand furies take you, you dastardly 
scoundrels, ” whipped out his revolver, and closing 
his eyes fired, injuring two or three promising juve- 
niles from the tributary streets of Hackney Road, 
and, as a last consequence of this act, finding him- 
self exposed to the glory of police-court proceed- 
ings and to the indignity of a birching. ' 

Tension was snapped by a quarrel between Mr. 
Bat Miller and his young wife. There were times 
when Mrs. Bat Miller was obtrusively affectionate 
with her husband ; as compensation, occasions flew 
in when she became half mad with jealousy. The 


A Son of the State 71 

Duchess and Mr. Leigh at these crises acted as 
peacemakers, a task at times not easy ; in this 
particular case they failed entirely. The young 
woman tore her red hair with fury ; she screamed 
so loudly that, common as such exhibitions were 
in Ely Place, neighbours began to show some 
interest in the front door. In this difficulty Mr. 
Bat Miller, pained and distressed, appealed to 
Bobbie to state whether, so far from having been 
walking with the sister of Nose, the boy of Drys- 
dale Street, between the hours of nine and ten that 
evening, he had not, as a matter of fact, been in the 
company of Bobbie at Liverpool Street Station. To 
this question Bobbie (who at the hours mentioned 
had been having a gloomy and quite solitary game 
of hop-scotch at the Kingsland Road end of Ely 
Place) answered promptly, “ Yus ! ” and Mrs. Bat 
Miller, confronted with this proof of alibi , burst 
into regretful tears and reproached herself for a 
silly woman, — one who allowed herself to be 
taken in by the gossip of any spiteful cat of 
a neighbour. Mr. Miller, grateful to Bobbie for 
this timely assistance, persuaded the quiet Leigh to 
allow the boy to resume his position in their con- 
fidence. After some hesitation Mr. Leigh agreed, 
adding however that he hoped Bobbie would see 
that the first duty of little boys was to be seen and 


A Son of the State 


72 

not heard ; the second not to go about interfering 
with what did not concern them. These Mr. 
Leigh declared to be ever golden rules, not to 
be broken without danger. Bobbie promised to 
bear the advice carefully in mind, and reassumed 
his position in the house with satisfaction. 

The two women were nearly always kind to 
him, and to them he became indebted for cheerful 
hours. The proudest memory of the Duchess’s 
was that of her one appearance on the music hall 
stage. It seemed that another young lady and 
herself having, in the late sixties, saved their 
money, had made their bow from the small stage 
of a small hall attached to a small public house 
in Banner Street, St. Luke’s. They called them- 
selves the Sisters Montmorency (on the urgent 
recommendation of the agent), and sang a song 
which still remained her favourite air. When 
in very good temper, and when Bobbie had 
been a very good boy, she would go out of 
the room, and re-enter with a fine swish of the 
skirts, singing, in a thin, quavering voice, this 
verse : — 

Y ou should see us in our landor when we ’ re drivi^ in the Row, 
You should ’ear us chaff the dukes and belted earls ; 

We ’re daughters of nobility, so they treat us with ceevility, 
For of well-bred, high-class damsels we ’re the pearls.” 


A Son of the State 73 

It appeared that the two debutantes quarrelled 
with each other after the first performance over 
some point of etiquette and fought in Banner 
Street, St. Luke’s ; as a consequence the partner- 
ship had thereupon been dissolved, and the 
Duchess’s career as an artiste of the music halls 
found itself checked and stopped. 

Proud in the ownership of a new bowler hat ; 
magnificent in the possession of a four-bladed 
knife with a corkscrew, which had come to him as 
his share of the contents of a portmanteau labelled 
from Scarborough to King’s Cross and taken pos- 
session of at the latter station by Mr. Miller before 
the owner had time to claim it, Bobbie strolled 
along Old Street one evening, smoking a cigarette 
and pushing small girls off the pavement into the 
roadway. Behind him walked Miss Trixie Bell 
in a feathered hat and a skirt furtively let out 
after departure from her mother’s shop in Pimlico 
Walk, and Miss Bell, in crossing lakes on the 
pavement, felt justified in lifting her skirt carefully 
to avoid contact with the ground, which it cleared 
by about twelve inches. At a junction of the 
City Road the boy stopped to allow the confused 
trams to untie themselves, and looking round saw 
her. 

“ Cheer ! ” said Miss Bell, with defiant shy- 


A Son of the State 


74 

ness. “ How ’ s the world using you ? ” Bobbie 
did not answer. u You ain’t seen me for a long 
time. ,, 

“ Ain’t wanted,” replied the boy. 

u I ’ve been away in the country,” said the 
young woman, in no way disconcerted. “ ’Mongst 
medders and pigs and farmyards and nuts and I 
don’t know what all.” 

“Well,” he said, w what of it ? ” 

“ You still living in Ely Place?” 

“ P’raps I am ; p’raps I ain’t.” 

u I would n’t live there for something,” remarked 
the girl, shrugging her shoulders. 

u They would n’t let you,” replied the boy. 
“ They ’re very particular about the kerricter of 
people they ’ave there.” 

“ Must they all ’ave a bad kerricter ? ” asked 
Miss Bell, innocently. 

The trams at the junction of roads extricated 
themselves from the tangle, and people who had 
been waiting on the kerb went across the road- 
way. Trixie Bell followed Bobbie, and they 
walked on opposite sides of the dimly lighted 
pavement near St. Luke’s Asylum, continuing their 
conversation with breaks occasioned by intervening 
passers-by. 

“ You ’ve no call,” shouted the boy, “to come 


A Son of the State 


75 

follering me about. I don’t want no truck with 
gels.” 

“ I s’pose you ’ve bought the street, ain’t you ? ” 
asked Miss Bell, loudly. u Seem to think you ’re 
everybody ’cause you ’ve got a bowler ’at on. Be 
wearing a chimney-pot next, I lay.” 

“ Sha’n’t ask your permission.” 
u All the boys down in the country,” called out 
the girl, u wash ’emselves twice a day.” 

K More fools them,” said Bobbie. 
u They would n’t dare be seen going about with 
a dirty face and neck like what you ’ve got.” 

u Look ’ere,” said the boy, savagely. He moved 
nearer to her. w You leave my face and neck 
alone.” 

u Sorry to do otherwise,” she remarked, pertly. 

“ When I want any remarks from you ’bout my 
face and neck, I ’ll ast for ’em. Till then you 
keep your mouth shut, ’r else I ’ll shut it for you.” 
u You ’d do a lot.” 

Bobbie lifted his arm, but the small girl did not 
flinch. He made another threatening gesture ; in- 
stantly his new bowler hat went spinning into 
the middle of the road in imminent danger of 
being run over by a railway van. Bobbie rescued 
it adroitly, and returning chased Miss Bell as far 
as Goswell Road. 


76 A Son of the State 

u Don’t hit me,” she begged, panting ; w I won’t 
do it again.” 

u Time ’s come,” said the boy, hotly, cc when 
I ’ve got to punch your bloomin’ ’ead for you.” 

“ Lemme off this time,” craved Miss Bell, 
crouching against a shop window, u and I ’ll stand 
you a ride back by tram.” 

u You ain’t got no tuppence,” said Bobbie, 
relenting. 

“ I ’ve got thruppence,” she said. 

They walked on as far as Bloomsbury in order 
that they might have full money’s worth. When 
they boarded a departing tram, and the con- 
ductor shouted to them to get off, it delighted 
Bobbie very much to be able to confound the 
man by declaring themselves as passengers. To 
do honour to the occasion, the boy rolled a cigar- 
ette, and turning to a tall spectacled young man 
on the seat behind them, borrowed a match. 

“ Take two,” said the tall young man. 

As the tram sailed past the lighted shops in 
Theobald’s Road, Trixie passed the twopence 
furtively to her companion, who paid the conductor 
with a lordly air, offering at the same time a few 
criticisms on the conductor’s appearance. Pres- 
ently the girl touched very lightly his hand, and 
moved nearer to him. 


A Son of the State 


77 

u Keep your ’ead off my shoulder,” he remarked 
brusquely. 

“I want to tell you something,” said Trixie. 

w Need n’t get so close.” 

“ My mother says — ” 

“ What ! ” said Bobbie, w is the old cat still 
alive ? ” 

w My mother says that if you like to leave those 
people what you ’re with now, and come and work 
at our shop as a errand boy — ” 

“ A errand boy,” echoed Bobbie, amazedly. 
“Work at that bloomin’ ’ole in the wall?” 

“ She ’ll give you eighteen-pence a week and 
see that you ’ave good schooling, and arrange so 
that you grow up respectable.” 

Bobbie recovering from his astonishment, placed 
his cigarette on the seat in order that he might 
laugh without restraint. 

“ Of all the damn bits of cheek ! ” he declared, 
exhaustedly. 

“ Make a lot of difference to you,” said the wise 
young woman. u If you don’t grow up respect- 
able, you ’ll simply — ” 

u Me, respectable,” said the boy, amused. 
“Why, you silly little ijiot, d’ you think I don’t 
know a trick worth fifty of that ? I ain’t going to 
work for my bloomin’ livin’.” 


78 A Son of the State 

“ Won’t ’ave a chance to, if the police get ’old 
of you.” 

“ Is that another one of your Mar’s remarks ? 
’Cause if so, you tell her from me, that she ’s a — ” 

“ Let ’s get down ’ere,” said Trixie Bell. She 
interrupted the string of adjectives by rising ; 
there were tears in her eyes. u This is ’Oxton 
Street.” 

u You can,” said the boy. “ I ’m goin’ on to 
Shoreditch.” 

“Wish I — I hadn’t met you now,” she said, 
with a catch in her voice. 

w Don’t let it ’appen again.” 

u I ’ll never speak to you,” sobbed Trixie Bell, 
“never no more in all my life.” 

“ Best bit of news I ’ve ’eard for a age,” 

“ Don’t you expect — don’t you expect me ever 
to take notice of you in future, mind.” 

“If you do,” said Bobbie, “ I shall be under 
the pineful necessity of knocking your ’ead clean 
off.” 

“ Goo’-bye,” said the girl, hesitatingly. 

“ Be slippy,” said Bobbie. 

The tall young man on the seat behind leaned 
forward as Trixie Bell disappeared down the 
steps of the tram. He tapped Bobbie on the 
shoulder. 


A Son of the State 


79 

“You behaved rather discourteously, sir, to 
your fair companion, ” he said. 

w Go on ! ” said Bobbie, recklessly. u All of 
you manage my affairs ! Don't mind me ! I 'll 
sit back, and not do nothing.” 

“ My excuse must be that we have met before. 
My name is Myddleton West, and I was at an 
inquest once — ” 

u I remember,” said the boy. 

“ Is the lady who has just gone, engaged to you, 
may I ask ? ” 

“ No fear,” said Bobbie, disdainfully. “ She 's 
a bit gone on me, that's all. Perfect nuisance 
it is, if you ask me.” 

“This,” said Myddleton West, “shows how 
awkward Providence is. With some of us the 
case is exactly the reverse.” 

“You're a lump better off without 'em,” said 
the boy, sagely. 

“ I only want one.” 

“ And one,” said Bobbie, “ is sometimes one 
too many. What are you doing in this quarter ? 
Thought you lived 'Olborn way.” 

“ I want the police station in Kingsland Road,” 
said the journalist. “ I have to see the Inspector 
about something. Do you know it ? ” 

“ Do I not ? ” said Bobbie, confidently. 


8 o 


A Son of the State 


They descended at the turbulent junction of 
roads near Shoreditch Station, and the boy con- 
ducted Myddleton West along the noisy crowded 
pavement of Kingsland Road, under the railway 
arch towards the police station. Glancing down 
Drysdale Street as he passed, Bobbie noticed Bat 
Miller near the gas-lamp talking to Nose's 
sister ; observed also, in the shadow of the arch, 
Mrs. Bat Miller, watching the scene, her face 
white and her lips moving. As soon as he had 
shown Myddleton West the entrance to the police 
station, and had received sixpence for his pains, 
he hurried through to Hoxton Street, coming 
back into Drysdale Street from that end. His 
intention had been to witness the comedy that he 
assumed to be impending ; to his great regret, just 
as Mr. Bat Miller began to punch the dark young 
woman affectionately, the young men who guarded 
Drysdale Street from the ruthless invader, sud- 
denly appeared, led by Nose, and by Libbis, and 
the odds being about eight to one, drove him off 
with furious threats. He went back to the police 
station in order to complete the earning of his 
sixpence by re-conducting Myddleton West to 
the tram for Bloomsbury. Approaching the 
station, on the steps of which plain clothes men 
were as usual lounging, he saw Mrs. Bat Miller 


A Son of the State 


81 


on the opposite side of the roadway, her white 
apron over her head, beckoning to one of the 
plain clothes men. Then she walked carelessly 
into Union Street. The detective followed her. 
Bobbie slipped across and stood in a doorway. 

“Well, my dear,” said the detective, “what’s 
your little game ? ” 

“ Mr. Thorpe,” said Mrs. Bat Miller, panting. 
She pressed one hand against her bodice, and 
gasped for breath. “Do you want — want to do 
a fair cop ? ” 

“A fair cop,” said Mr. Thorpe, cheerfully, 
“would just now come in very handy. Who are 
the parties ? ” 

“ He ’s behaved like a wretch,” said the young 
woman, breathlessly, “ or I ’d never ’ave turned 
on him. I ’m as striteforward a gel as ever 
breathed in all ’Oxton, ain’t I, Mr. Thorpe ? ” 

“ Straightforward don’t describe it strong 
enough.” 

“ I’m a model to all the neighbours.” 

“No one more so,” agreed the detective. 
“ What ’s the name of — ” 

“Anything else I could ’ave forgive him,” she said, 
trembling with passion. “ When we ’ve been ’ard 
up and he ’s come ’ome with not a penny in his 
pocket, and me gone without dinner, did I complain?” 

6 


82 


A Son of the State 


“ Course you did n’t. Who — ” 
u When he was put away for six months, three 
year ago, did n’t I slave and keep myself to myself, 
and go and meet him down at Wandsworth when 
he come out ? ” 

“No lady,” conceded Mr. Thorpe, “could 
have done more. What is — ” 

“ When he was laid up in the ’orsepital,” she 
went on fiercely, “ did n’t I go to see him every 
visiting day, and take him nuts and oranges and 
goodness knows what all, and sit be his bedside 
for the hour together ? ” 

“ I really don’t know,” said the detective, 
impartially, “ what men are coming to. Where 
are — ” 

“ And then to go paying his attentions to a — ” 
“ Not so loud ! ” 

She checked herself and looked round. Then 
she took the lappel of Mr. Thorpe’s coat and 
whispered. Bobbie could not hear the words. 

“ Good ! ” exclaimed the detective. “ Are 
they both indoors, now ? ” 

“ If they ain’t, you can wait for ’em,” she 
replied. 

“ Will six men be enough, d’ you think ? ” 

“ Six ’ll be ample, Mr. Thorpe,” she said. 
“And if Miller shows fight, tell them not to be 


A Son of the State 83 

afraid of knocking him about. It ’ll do him good, 
the — ” 

“ I ’ll make a note of it,” said Mr. Thorpe. 
w You don’t want to come with us, I s’pose ? 
You’d better not be seen, p’raps?” 

u You leave me to look after meself,” she 
answered. 

“ Come over and ’ave a cup of tea along with 
our female searcher,” suggested Mr. Thorpe. 

“Tea be ’anged,” she said. “I shall want 
something stronger than tea when my paddy ’s 
over.” 

“ Daresay we shall be able to get you a sov- 
ereign or two for this job if you keep yourself 
quiet.” 

“ Keep your money,” she cried, angrily. u All 
I want is to be at the Sessions when he comes up 
and to watch her face.” 

Bobbie crept from his doorway. Once in 
Kingsland Road he flew along swiftly, slipping 
in and out of the crowd, and jumping a linen 
basket, to the astonishment of the two women 
who were carrying it. He scuttled through the 
dwarf posts, and down Ely Place, knocking over 
one or two children toddling about in the way, 
and reaching the house so exhausted that he could 
only just give the usual whistle at the key-hole. 


A Son of the State 


84 

Mr. Leigh opened the door, and seeing him, took 
off the chain. The boy, staggering into the dimly 
lighted passage, leaned against the wall. 

“ Bat Miller in ? ” he panted. 

“ What ’s the row ? ” demanded Mr. Leigh, con- 
cernedly. Bobbie explained in a hurried, detached, 
spasmodic way. Mr. Leigh took a pair of scissors 
from his pocket, and glancing at a slip of look- 
ing glass, cut off the whiskers which fringed his 
face. 

“Tell the wife,” said Mr. Leigh, quietly snip- 
ping, “ to meet me at Brenchley, if she gets 
clear. Tell her not to make no fuss.” He took 
his overcoat from the peg and a cloth cap with 
ear flaps. “ Come straight here, ’ave you ? ” he 
asked. 

“ Like a bloomin’ arrer.” 

“ Look outside and see if they ’ve come up 
yet,” requested Mr. Leigh, tying the flaps of his 
cap under his chin. “We don’t want no bother 
or nothing.” 

Ely Place being clear at the Hoxton Street end, 
Mr. Leigh, his head well down, went out of the 
doorway. He shook hands with Bobbie. 

“You’re a capital boy,” whispered Mr. Leigh 
approvingly. “ If I ’d got anything smaller than 
a tanner about me, I ’d give it you. Be good ! ” 


A Son of the State 85 

Bobbie closed the door, and his heart fluttering, 
went upstairs to the front bedroom. The Duch- 
ess was asleep, dressed, on her bed, her high 
heeled boots ludicrously obtrusive. Bobbie aroused 
her and gave her the news. 

w My old man ’s safe, then ? What about Bat 
Miller ? ” she asked, sitting up affrightedly. 

“We must watch out of the winder,” ordered 
Bobbie. w If he comes first we ’ll wave him to 
be off ; if he comes after they ’re ’ere, he ’ll be 
nabbed.” 

“You’ve got a ’ead on you,” said the Duchess, 
trembling, u that would be a credit to a Prime 
Minister. Come to the winder and — Let me 
’old your ’and. I ’m all of a shake.” 

u They can’t touch us, can they ? ” asked 
Bobbie, stroking the woman’s thin, trembling 
wrist. 

“ Hope not,” said the Duchess nervously. 
“ But there, you never know what the law can do. 
Fancy her turning nark jest through a fit of jeal- 
ousy. Is that Miller talking to one of the 
neighbours ? ” 

Mr. Miller it was, Mr. Miller chatting amiably 
with one of the lady neighbours on the subject of 
flowers and how to rear them ; the lady neighbour 
being something of a horticulturist in her way, pos- 


86 


A Son of the State 


sessing as she did, in her garden plot, one sooty 
shrub, a limp sunflower, and several dandelions. 
Mr. Miller had just said something to the lady 
neighbour which had made her laugh uproariously, 
when, chancing to look up, he saw the signals of 
the Duchess and of Bobbie. His face took a note 
of interrogation ; they motioned to him to go 
away with all despatch. Mr. Bat Miller crammed 
his hat over his head and ran off blindly, — so 
blindly, indeed, that at the Kingsland Road end of 
the Place, he jumped into the arms of three over- 
coated men led by Mr. Thorpe ; escaping these 
he was caught neatly by uniformed policemen who 
were close behind. At the same moment a simi- 
lar force appeared at the Hoxton Street end of the 
Place. Bobbie and the Duchess held each other’s 
hands and went downstairs. The faint sound of 
a hymn came from the closed door. 

Three loud raps at the front door. Bobbie 
went along the passage and opened it. Mr. 
Thorpe with the other men ; out in the court a 
small interested crowd. The noise of windows 
being thrown up. 

“ Come about the whitewashin’ ? ” asked Bob- 
bie, innocently. 

“ Take the chain off, me lad,” said Mr. Thorpe, 
with his foot inside. 


A Son of the State 


87 


u Right you are, sir.” 

The men came into the dark passage and one 
of them flashed a bull’s-eye lantern around. 

“ Father in ? ” asked Mr. Thorpe. 

“Well, no,” answered the boy, “he isn’t ex- 
actly in, sir.” 

“Won’t be long, I daresay.” 

“ I would n’t wait, sir,” said Bobbie respectfully, 
“if I was you. Fact is he’s been dead some 
years.” 

The man with the bull’s-eye made the circle of 
light dance to the bottom stair, and discovered the 
Duchess. Another went to the closed door of the 
back room and put his shoulder against it. 

“ Now then, ma’am,” said Mr. Thorpe, turning 
from the boy impatiently, “ where ’s your good 
gentleman ? ” 

“ Pray don’t ask me, fellow,” replied the Duch- 
ess, endeavouring to assume her accent of refine- 
ment, with some want of success. “ If you want 
him I really think the best thing you can do is to 
find him.” 

“Go upstairs, two of you,” commanded Mr. 
Thorpe. “Two others give Baker a help with 
that door. Someone look after this woman and 
the kid.” 

Bobbie, his shoulder gripped by a broad hand, 


88 


A Son of the State 


watched with interest. The door groaned com- 
plainingly for a moment or two ; then it gave way 
with so much suddenness that the two men stum- 
bled into the room. Between the figures of the 
men Bobbie could see the room crowded in the 
manner of a workshop of limited accommoda- 
tion. A wooden bench stood against the shuttered 
windows ; the flare of a fire out of sight reddened 
the untidy floor. On a table some circular moulds 
of plaster of Paris ; near, some coins with a tail 
of metal attached that gave them an unconvinc- 
ing appearance. Three pewter pots, half melted 
on the edge of an iron sink. A small battery 
in the corner; and at this seated the figure of 
a young man. The figure looked round casually 
as the men entered, and Bobbie caught sight of a 
face not pleasant to look upon. 

“Is that the Fright ? ” whispered Bobbie to the 
Duchess. The Duchess nodded and touched her 
forehead. 

“Tile loose ! ” she said. 

The figure turned back to his work of plating, 
crooning his hymn as though the interruption was 
not worthy of any special notice. Then the door 
partially closed. 

“ Mind my shoulder, please,” said the Duchess, 
affectedly. 


A Son of the State 89 

tc I am minding it,” said the detective, cheerfully. 

u You ’re no gentleman,” declared the Duchess, 
cc or you would n’t behave to a lady in this way.” 

U I was never what you may call a society man,” 
said the detective. “You seem to have got a rare 
old little snide factory here all to yourself.” 

“ I beg your pardon ? ” said the Duchess, icily. 

“ Carried on nice and quiet too, apparently. 
No show, no display, no what you may call arro- 
gance about it.” 

“ What is this person talking about, Bobbie my 
dear ? ” 

“ Ast him,” said Bobbie, his eyes fixed on the 
partially closed door. 

“ This your boy, ma’am ? ” 

“ This lad,” said the Duchess, precisely, “ is, I 
regret to say, an orphan. I took some interest in 
his case and my husband and myself have so to 
speak adopted him.” 

“ Then you ’ll probably have to un-adopt him,” 
said the detective. “ If he ’s got no relatives the 
State will take him in hand.” 

“ Who ’s she ? ” asked Bobbie, detaching his in- 
terest from the back room. 

u The State ’s got a pretty decent-sized family as 
it is,” went on the man, “and one extra won’t 
make much difference.” His two colleagues came 


A Son of the State 


90 

downstairs. w Anybody ? ” he asked. The two 
men replied not a soul. “ Then one of ’em ’s 
nipped off,” said the detective. u Go and tell the 
sergeant.” 

The door re-opened as the men proceeded to 
obey. Between two of Mr. Thorpe’s assistants 
came the demented man, his terrible face down ; 
Bobbie was pulled back to allow them to conduct 
him through the passage. Finding himself going 
at a regular pace, he commenced to sing huskily a 
Moody and Sankey hymn with a marching rhythm. 

** Hold the gospel banner high. 

On to victory grand, 

Satan and his host defy. 

And shout for Danyul's band.'’ 

u Bring the woman and the boy,” ordered Mr. 
Thorpe. u And keep close round them. There ’s 
an awkward crowd outside.” 

The awkward crowd of Ely Place was not ap- 
parently ready to carry its awkwardness to the 
point of interference with the police. On the 
contrary, the crowd seemed anxious to show 
some friendliness towards the plain clothes men, 
saying, “ Good evening, Mr. Thorpe, sir j more 
work for you, I see.” “ And how are you, Mr. 
Baker ? and how ’s that cold of yours getting on, 
I wonder ? ” Some of the men of Mr. Thorpe’s 


A Son of the State 91 

regiment remained in charge of the house ; the 
others assisted in conducting the three arrested 
people to the police station. 

w Hullo, young man,” said Myddleton West, at 
the entrance. The crowd in Kingsland Road had 
swelled to the number of hundreds, and West had 
to wait for their departure. “ You in this affair ? ” 
w Looks like it,” said Bobbie. 
u Can I do anything ? ” asked the long young 
journalist. 

“Yes!” said the boy gruffly. u Keep your 
head shut ; I don’t want no one interfering with 
my affairs.” 

“ Deplorable thing,” remarked Myddleton West 
aside to the sergeant, u for a child like that.” 

w Not at all, sir,” said Mr. Thorpe, “ not at all. 
We ’ve nabbed him just in time.” 


9 2 


A Son of the State 


CHAPTER V 

T? VENTS occurred with a rapidity that, in view 
of their importance, seemed to Bobbie frankly 
indecorous. No sooner had he been placed be- 
tween parallel iron bars in a police court than he 
was whisked from the iron bars, on the direction 
of a magistrate, who had a kindly manner with 
children j after a brief week at the workhouse, 
looked after by a burly inmate (known to col- 
leagues by the satirical name of the Slogger), 
Bobbie found himself again carried off* swiftly 
to the court, where, when a number of cases had 
been heard in which foreign gentlemen and foreign 
ladies told everything but the truth, Bobbie was 
hurried in and directed to stand by the side of 
the dock, an order that annoyed him because this 
was clearly an attempt to treat him as though he 
were not a grown-up and a perfect criminal. In 
the rooms adjoining the court he had seen Bat 
Miller ; and Bat Miller had had opportunity of 
mentioning that he was the only one who would 
get put away, and that when he came out it would 


A Son of the State 


93 

be his pleasurable duty to see that Mrs. Bat Miller 
found herself repaid for all her trouble. 

Scarce had the boy taken up an attitude of 
u don’t care ” at the side of the dock, and scarce 
had he commenced to prepare a short remark of 
defiance for the benefit of Master Ted Sullivan, 
the shooting youth (whom he saw at the back of 
the court), when he found himself hustled out 
of the court by the public door ; on kicking 
the gaoler protestingly in leaving, the gaoler 
boxed his ears, telling him that he would find 
somebody outside to teach him manners. Out- 
side, indeed, was an official from the workhouse, 
who re-conducted him to the huge building that 
threw out its wings in various directions at the 
back of Ely Place ; and there they had no sooner 
arrived than Bobbie, being now the charge and 
ward of the Guardians, found himself added to a 
party of children made up of six boys and seven 
girls (nearly all of them younger than himself), 
who were carried away in charge of the Slogger, 
and a grim, silent comrade of the Slogger, to 
a London station that Bobbie knew, there to 
take train for the parish schools which Wisdom, 
looking in some years before at a meeting of the 
Guardians, had suggested. All this rapidity of 
action made the boy extremely sulky; when the 


A Son of the State 


94 

Slogger, in workhouse uniform, offered him a few 
choice flowers of advice culled from the spacious 
gardens of experience, in the shape of hints on 
the way of living in the world at the minimum 
of labour to yourself and the maximum of 
expense to other people, Bobbie growled at the 
Slogger’s well-meant counsel, and would have 
found the journey away into Essex tedious but 
for the fact that he heard a woman in the next 
compartment remark that he possessed a bright 
little face. The compliment saved him from 
depression, and made him put his cap straight. 

Arrived at a country station, the small band of 
thin-faced children marched out into the roadway 
in charge of the two men. One of the youngest 
baby girls had just decided the moment to be op- 
portune for wailing, when they happened on a 
scene that changed the attitude of everybody from 
the Slogger down to the smallest boy in petticoats. 
The sight being new to Bobbie, his interest and 
delight increased accordingly. The Slogger seemed 
to have exercised enough energy at some period of 
his life to have obtained certain information, and 
was in consequence able to give the scene a title. 

“ A cirkiss ! ” said the Slogger, authoritatively. 

A circus it was ! Not one of your cheap 
affairs, mind, of amateur monkeys and two dogs 


A Son of the State 95 

and a goat, but a real, complete, elaborate, efficient 
circus, with just now its best artistes out to give to 
the town bold advertisement of its coming per- 
formance that afternoon. Four huge, lumbering 
elephants strode along deliberately, men on their 
backs directing them with the touch of a stick ; 
when an elephant lifted its trunk as though about 
to play something, the girls in the crowd that 
lined the village street shouted, u Oh — ah ! ” 
affrightedly, and stepped back on the toes of 
people behind them. Came, too, dainty white 
miniature horses, decorated with trappings and 
bells, and led by pages in such admirable costumes 
that it seemed almost a pity the wearers had not 
bethought themselves of shaving ; handsome, proud, 
capering black horses ridden by sedate matrons in 
riding habits, who, being applauded by the lookers- 
on, bowed graciously and touched their hats with 
their whips, but who, on the suggestion being 
loudly offered by Bobbie (now scarlet with excite- 
ment) that they should turn a somersault, frowned 
and looked at the crowd with the air of offended 
empresses. Piebald ponies, brown ponies, chestnut 
ponies, and grey ponies, and, when you were tired 
of ponies, a gorgeous car with uniformed footmen 
walking soberly at its side, and high up in this car 
a lady with a trident and golden helmet and white 


g6 A Son of the State 

robes, who gazed straight before her and sniffed a 
little, and once unfortunately gave a sneeze that 
sent the golden helmet a little awry, but who, 
despite these drawbacks (which, of course, were 
no reflection on her moral worth), looked a very 
fine and dignified figure of a woman. 

“ Who ’s she supposed to be ? ” asked Bobbie. 

“ Britannier,” said the Slogger. 

u I know what you mean,” said Bobbie. 

The small girl who had attempted to cry, and 
now beamed, asked if the lady was related to the 
Britannia, Camden Town, and found herself for 
her ignorance derided by the rest of the party. 

“ Course not, you silly young silly,” replied 
Bobbie. u Britannia represents the country, and 
she ’s the kind of mother of us all. Ain’t she. 
Slogger ? ” 

“But s’pose you ain’t got a muvver?” said 
the small girl, thinking she had detected a flaw in 
the argument. 

“ Why that ’s jest where she comes in useful,” 
declared Bobbie. u Ain’t it, Slogger ? ” 

“ In a manner of speaking,” acknowledged the 
Slogger, cautiously, “ yes.” 

The two camels went by awkwardly, and Bob- 
bie told the other children an amazing anecdote 
concerning them, invented* on the spur of the 


A Son of the State 97 

moment ; the performing dogs passed with ridicu- 
lous frills round their necks and an appealing look 
in their eyes that begged people not to laugh at 
them ; more horses, with more haughty ladies ; 
at the end of all, the crowd fell in and followed 
the procession to the large canvas tent away on 
a triangle of spare land. As the party from Hox- 
ton continued their march along the road to their 
destination, they seemed altogether different from 
those children who had came down. Bobbie sang. 
When they were clear of the town, two long 
pieces of string were seen far away in the broad 
dusty road. Coming near, the first piece of 
string proved to be a long procession of scarlet 
Tam o’ Shanter capped girls; the second was 
found to be made up of bright, round-faced, ex- 
pectant boys in serviceable suits, chosen in order 
to evade any appearance of a uniform. 

u Stop,” said the Slogger once more, 44 and 
watch.” 

44 Where are they going? ” asked Bobbie. 
“Why, to the cirkiss,” answered the Slogger. 
u These are only the best of ’em, though. The 
others ’ave to stay behind.” 

u They ’d no business,” said the boy, darkly, 
41 to make no distinction.” 

44 Take off your cap to the ladies in charge.” 

7 


98 A Son of the State 

u Not me,” said Bobbie. 

“Take it off, when I keep telling you,” ordered 
the Slogger anxiously. u You ’ll only get me and 
yourself into a row.” 

“ Only this once, then,” said the boy. 

The Tam o’ Shanter capped little women, as 
they marched by the new arrivals, seemed much 
amused at the odd appearance of certain of the 
new recruits. 

“For two pins,” said Bobbie threateningly, as he 
noted this attitude, “ I ’d punch all their bloomin’ 
’eads.” 

When the string of boys came, the interest ap- 
peared more pronounced, and Bobbie, too, looked 
anxiously to see the kind of men with whom he 
would in future live. He felt bound to confess 
that they were rather a smart set of youngsters 
marching along with a swing, good temper (for 
which the afternoon’s treat was partly responsible) 
written large on everyone’s face. One boy of the 
marching detachment, being distant from the two 
or three teachers who were in charge, asked the 
Slogger satirically whether he would take a bit of 
slate pencil for the whole fourteen, and the Slogger 
having no reply, Bobbie threw a stone that hit the 
satirical boy on the leg, causing him to cry 
“ Wah ! ” The boys having passed, the small 


A Son of the State 99 

detachment from Hoxton marched on again, and 
presently they saw away at the side of the road a 
long row of red-tiled houses going into fields and 
nursery gardens, and giving to the flat country 
a look of bright importance. The Slogger 
spoke. 

u There you are,” said the Slogger, pointing. 
M There *s ’ome sweet ’ome for all you kiddies.” 

The Slogger pulled a bell at the closed gate- 
way ; and on the gate opening obediently, the Slog- 
ger, with his silent colleague, entered the covered 
passage at the head of the fourteen youngsters. 
Near the end of the covered passage, a genial 
uniformed man met them, saying u Hullo ! hullo ! 
hullo ! ” took from the Slogger a blue form, which 
appeared to be a kind of bill of lading, and checked 
the goods carefully ; then a stout motherly woman 
bustled out of the house, which was the first, it 
seemed, of the many red-tiled houses that strolled 
away into the meadows, and asked, “ Have you 
wiped your boots, my dears ? ” and when they 
answered in a shy chorus, “Yus!” bade them 
wipe them again, a precaution justified in view 
of the spotless floors and well-swept passages 
which they presently found inside. The Slogger 
and his colleague had a glass of beer and some 
bread and cheese, and then the Slogger said, 


IOO 


A Son of the State 


u Good-bye and good luck ! ” his silent compan- 
ion whispered with a mysterious air to Bobbie, 
“ Long live enarchy ! ” and they went. 

“ And now,” said the uniformed gatekeeper, 
taking off his jacket, “ now to bath, one or two of 
you biggest boys. S’phia, pick out yours.” 

The wife of the uniformed man selected the 
girls and three of the tiniest boys, and led them 
away to a separate bathroom. 

w ’Alf a sec,” said Bobbie, protestingly. “ I ’ve 
had a good wash once this week.” 

“ Once is n’t often,” remarked the uni- 
formed man, opening the door of the bathroom. 
u You’ll find that you’ll not only have to wash 
regular, but you ’ll get a proper bath twice a week, 
besides learning to swim.” 

w That be ’anged for a tale,” remarked the boy, 
doggedly. 

For answer, Bobby found himself shot swiftly 
into the bathroom. 

“ You begin to argue,” said the man, not un- 
kindly, w and you ’ll get into trouble ; you do what 
you ’re told, and you ’ll find yourself as right as rain.” 

This was the lesson that Bobbie at first obsti- 
nately declined to learn. The cottage was the 
probationary cottage where all new comers stayed 
in quarantine for fourteen days, with every day a 


A Son of the State 


IOI 


visit from the doctor ; the restraint and the regu- 
larity and the cleanliness and the general order of 
the place were foes against which Bobbie warred 
fiercely. He would have been more antagonistic 
at this stage, only that the doorkeeper’s wife was a 
good, burly soul, with a heart as large as her hand 
(both were easily moved), and when one day of the 
fortnight she saw Bobbie comforting the small cry- 
ing girl who had arrived with the detachment, by 
standing on his head and clapping his heels to a 
martial rhythm, in order that the child might be 
induced to change tears for laughter, and when on 
charging Bobbie with being a good boy to thus 
divert the weeping young lady, he furiously denied 
the imputation, then the good woman determined 
that there was good in Bobbie, and rewarded him 
with a special meat pasty that the boy could not, 
in justice to his appetite, refuse. Furtively, too, 
he made admirable dolls from young turnips which 
had been brought in with others from the large 
gardens at the back, and had been cast aside ; one 
of these — a staring damsel, with two peas for 
eyes, and a broad bean for a nose — so much en- 
deared itself to the heart of the lachrymose little 
girl that, one evening, in an excess of emotion, 
she ate it, afterwards crying her little heart out 
with remorse. 


102 


A Son of the State 


“ And now, young Lancaster,” said the door- 
keeper, looking in the bathroom at the end of 
a fortnight that seemed about two years, “ now 
you ’ll on with your clothes and come along o’ me 
to Collingwood Cottage.” 

M Very near time, too,” said Bobbie, rubbing 
himself with the towel. tc I ’ve had enough of this 
blooming bath nonsense.” 

“ Oh, no, you have n’t, my lad.” 

“ I feel,” grumbled the boy, “as though I never 
want to wash again. Where ’s my weskit, boss ? ” 

“ Where ’s your manners ? ” demanded the 
doorkeeper sharply. 

“ I don’t trouble about manners,” said Bobbie ; 
“ people ’ave to take me as they find me. If they 
don’t like it, they can jolly well lump it.” 

w They ’ll lump you if you are not careful,” 
warned the doorkeeper. “ Rub your head again 
with the towel, and look sharp about it.” 

“They’ll look silly if they come interferin’ 
’long o’ me,” said Bobbie, with the towel over his 
head. “ I ain’t like a kid.” 

“Yes, you are,” said the man sagely. “Not 
only have you got a great deal to learn, but, more- 
over, you ’ve got a great deal to forget. And 
touching this bath business, that you seem to kick 
against so, p’raps you ’ll be interested to hear that 


A Son of the State 103 

in Collingwood you ’ll have to wash just as regular 
as you ’ve washed here, and you ’ll get your two 
baths a week without fail.” 

“ Go on ! ” said the boy, uneasily. 

w I ’m telling you the truth, my lad. Your 
foster-parents ’ll see to that. Your new father 
works in the carpenter’s shop, and he ’s what you 
may call a hard man.” 

“ If he comes the hard business with me,” mut- 
tered the boy, truculently, lt I ’ll damn well show 
him.” 

He was presently, after a kiss from the wife, 
which he received shamefacedly, conducted out into 
the broad, gravelled roadway dividing the two rows 
of red-roofed cottages ; stop made at a clematis- 
covered house which bore its title over the door- 
way. There his new foster-mother appeared and 
eyed him critically, looked with great care at his 
head and eyes, and the hour being in school-time 
and the cottage therefore without family, she took 
him over the rooms, showing him with pride the 
prints from Christmas numbers on the walls, the 
white-floored, white-tabled dining-room, the com- 
fortable sitting-room with its illustrated weekly 
papers, and the kitchen and scullery, where every- 
thing shone so that mirrors would have been a 
superfluity ; afterwards up the broad staircase to 


104 


A Son of the State 


the dormitories, each with seven red-counterpaned 
beds, and a floor that gave promise of some day 
disappearing entirely under the attacks of scrubbing 
from two long boys on their knees. 

w And some day,” said the foster-mother, gener- 
ously, “ if you grow up a good boy and become 
a half-timer, you shall be one of the two lads 
to stay at home and help me with the ’ouse- 
work.” 

w No great catch,” remarked Bobbie, grimly. 

“ Ah ! ” said the foster-mother, “ you think so 
now ; but you wait.” 

“ It ’s gels* work, not men’s.” 

“We don’t ’ave girls in Collingwood,” said his 
foster-mother. 

“ Good job, too.” 

u And so I expect my boys to give me all the 
help about the house that they can, you see. 
They’ll be back from school and the workshops 
presently, and then you ’ll meet ’em all.” 

u That ’ll be a treat,” said the boy, satirically. 
u What ’s your name ? ” 

u You ’ll call me ‘mother,’ and you ’ll call my 
’usband ‘ father.’ ” 

“ Got some brawsted silly notions down ’ere,” 
he said. 

“ Use a word like that again, my boy,” said his 


A Son of the State 


105 

foster-mother, with severity, “ and you ’ll ’ave rice 
instead of meat for dinner.” 

“ Like what ? ” asked the boy, astonished. 
The foster-mother spelt the word. “ Not say 
brawsted ! ” echoed Bobbie, amazedly. “ Why, 
what can you say ? ” 

Limitations of speech afflicted Bobbie sorely 
when the thirty boys trooped into Collingwood 
from school and from work, jostling him as they 
took their places at the dinner-table. He had be- 
come so accustomed to the use of expressive words, 
here tabooed, that it was not easy for him to find 
effective substitutes. The boys aggravated him, 
too, by the excellence of their spirits ; to look at 
them and to hear them talk, one would imagine 
this to be the brightest and cheeriest spot on earth ; 
Bobbie made up his mind to correct this want of 
balance by surly and (when opportunity should 
offer) aggressive behaviour. He sat at the table 
gloomily; and when the foster-father, who brought 
to the dining-room a scent of shavings, rallied him, 
making a mild joke upon his Christian name 
(affecting to mistake Bobbie for a city policeman), 
the boy declined to join in the laugh, and scowled 
persistently. 

Later, at the large schoolhouse over the way, 
he found himself exposed to another ordeal, one 


106 A Son of the State 

that he decided in his small brain to be nothing 
more nor less than a studied insult, and this was an 
examination in spelling, reading, and arithmetic, 
from which he emerged with a self-abasement 
equalled by indignation against the young assistant 
teacher who had had to put questions to him. 
Thanks to the care that he had always taken to 
evade education offered by the State, he found 
himself placed in a class at the end of the large 
schoolroom amongst boys who were all some years 
his junior ; found himself, too, failing to jump 
difficulties which they cleared with comparative 
ease, and becoming in consequence the recipient 
of much satire. After a few weeks of considera- 
tion, he decided one morning, as he put his head 
under the shower-tap in the washing-room at 
Collingwood — he had begun to conquer his dis- 
inclination for cleanliness — that he would show 
everybody he was not of the stuff that butts were 
made ; that he would apply himself seriously to 
the acquirement of knowledge. This fact being 
made apparent, the young assistant found another 
target for his shafts of satire, and when one after- 
noon the question of 7 times 7 minus 9 was put 
to Bobbie, and the class prepared to be exceedingly 
diverted at Bobbie’s answer and was so diverted, 
not recognising the fact that his answer proved 


A Son of the State 107 

absolutely correct, then the class had to be admon- 
ished for inappropriate hilarity, in terms that made 
Bobbie’s little head swell with content. Being 
advanced to the next of the three classes in the 
large schoolroom, he had maps to wrestle with, 
and felt for a time a grievance against his country 
because it had possessions in so many quarters of 
the globe. 

Late afternoon brought relief in the shape of 
drill on the large square space at the end of all the 
cottages and near to meadows, — drill conducted 
by an upright ex-army man in braided uniform, 
who doubled the parts of a stern disciplinarian as 
a drill-master, and a genial distributor of goods as a 
storekeeper. On parade the drill-master was like 
a commander-in-chief (but less hampered than that 
official by Secretaries of State for War and people) : 
there came exercise with Indian clubs to the music 
of a band of boys in uniform of blue with scarlet 
facings, so that at a distance you might think they 
belonged to the service, and who were sometimes 
so proud of their ability that they could scarcely 
play the brass instruments ; real military drill with 
small wooden rifles, and once the awkwardness of 
the first few drillings passed, and once you became 
used to the drill-master’s voice, it was capital sport, 
because you had only to give imagination rein and 


108 A Son of the State 

you were a grown-up lifeguardsman with an admir- 
able chest, chin well up, six feet two inches in 
your boots, and all the ladies who lived downstairs 
in West End houses hard at work worshipping 
you. Later, at five o’clock (the time being late 
autumn), you met the drill-sergeant again in 
the gymnasium, which was the swimming bath 
boarded over, and there you had the rarest 
games with parallel bars and the vaulting horse 
and horizontal bars, and goodness alone knew 
what. When all this had gone on for a few 
months Bobbie found to his great satisfaction 
that in stretching out his right arm and then 
bringing his fist back towards the shoulder, there 
appeared above the elbow a distinct, palpable, 
unmistakable, not to be denied sign of thick 
muscle. Saying his prayers that night on the 
reminder of the monitor of his room, he omitted 
the formula that he had been obliged to learn, and 
substituted special thanks for this development, 
asking that he might become a strong man, so that 
he could knock anybody down whenever that act 
should appear appropriate and desirable. 

Thus Robert Lancaster grew. 


A Son of the State 


109 


CHAPTER VI 

A 1 ^HE days in general resembled each other at 
the Cottage Homes, but there were excep- 
tions. For instance, Bank Holidays. On the 
first Bank Holiday after the winter, came to the 
homes long, awkward young men who had been 
boys, caught years since in the streets of Shore- 
ditch, and transferred (as Bobbie had been trans- 
ferred) and educated and trained, and who being 
now plutocrats in the enjoyment of twenty-five 
shillings a week, or bandsmen capable of blowing 
agreeable airs in military bands, or wide-trousered 
sailors with a roll in their walk and brown open 
throats, — these came to revisit the place that had 
made men of them, and to salute respectfully 
admiring foster-parents, saying, “ Yes, thank you, 
mother, I ’m getting along middling, thanks, 
mustn’t grumble, I s’pose, and how are you, 
and how ’s father ? And I Ve took the liberty, 
mother, which I trust you ’ll excuse, of bringing 
you my photograph, which I hope you’ll accept 
with my best compliments.” The foster-mother 


I IO 


A Son of the State 


having been duly ecstatic over the photograph 
(“Your nose has come out so well, boy, that’s 
what I like about it ”), there would be tea in the 
dining-room with some of the present boarders 
standing around open-eyed and open-mouthed, 
whilst the young man told mother amusing anec- 
dotes of his present occupation, and fenced mother’s 
delicate inquiries concerning the whereabouts of his 
heart. It was a proud young man who, the boys 
being ordered from the room, could bring from the 
breast pocket of his coat a cabinet-sized picture 
of an elegant young woman standing by a rustic 
gate with an open book in her hand (this to show 
that in her, literature had a friend) and an uncon- 
scious but slightly anxious look on her face, as 
who should say, “ Oh, dear, dear, dear, I do hope 
nobody is photographing me,” and to announce 
that this was his own, his very own young lady. 
The cottage having been visited, there were 
nurses to call upon in the detached houses in fields 
beyond the gate, and the masters of the school, 
and (with great respect) the superintendent and his 
wife in their house, and the doorkeeper and his 
wife in their cottage ( u My word, I shall never 
forget the day I come here first ”), and finally to 
light cigars in full view of the admiring boys and 
depart. Also came friends of the boys or their 


A Son of the State 


1 1 1 


more or less unfortunate parents ; and these, the 
way from Hoxton being long and places of refresh- 
ment by the way numerous, sometimes arrived at 
the gates in such extravagant spirits that, to the 
bitter sorrow of some expectant youngster within, 
they could not be admitted. Bobbie on a certain 
Easter Monday was feeling sick at the throat upon 
seeing other boys with friends around them, when 
to him were announced two ladies — Mrs. Bell 
and Miss Trixie Bell! 

“ Hello, Bobbie,” cried Mrs. Bell, “don’t you 
look a treat ! ” 

Mrs. Bell was costumed in a manner which 
reflected credit not only upon herself and her 
dressmaker, but also in some way upon the boarder 
at the Cottage Homes whom she was visiting. 
Beneath a heavy fur-bordered cloak Bobbie could 
not help noting that Mrs. Bell was in blue satin; 
a broad band sparkling with beads went around 
her ample waist. Her face, it is true, had become 
scarlet from the exercise of walking, but this only 
lent a further variety of colour to her general ap- 
pearance ; her black bonnet escaped the charge of 
monotony by the presence of deftly placed yellow 
roses in full bloom. Her daughter, growing and 
already several years older in manner than her 
mother, was more demurely apparelled, and as she 


I 12 


A Son of the State 


stood near her mother she drew careful diagrams 
on the gravel with the end of her parasol. Glanc- 
ing at her, it occurred to Bobbie for the first time 
that Trixie Bell would become rather a fine young 
woman when Time had lent further aid ; she was 
neatly gloved, her shoes were beyond criticism. 
One of the duties that had come with years was, 
it appeared, to pilot her mother, and to warn her 
when natural exuberance caused that good woman 
to approach those rocks which, in speech, cause 
disaster. 

K I never saw such a difference in all my life,” 
declared Mrs. Bell. “ Why, you ’ave n’t been 
here a couple of years and your hands are as clean 
as clean.” 

cc How are you getting on, ma’am ? ” he asked 
civilly. w Still in that little place in Pimlico 
Walk ? ” 

w Me and mother,” interposed Miss Bell, 
“think of taking a business now in the Kings- 
land Road.” 

ct Ho, ho ! ” said Bobbie, u mixing with the 
upper ten, aye ? ” 

“ I ’ave n’t got reely used to the idea yet,” 
confessed Mrs. Bell. w I shall miss the smell 
of the fried-fish shop at the end dreadfully. 
When the wind is in the east it is quite a 


A Son of the State 


1 13 

*earty meal merely to look out of the doorway 
and sniff.” 

w You’d better find somewhere to sit down, 
mother,” said her daughter, severely. 
ct I could do with a chair.” 
u Come into my cottage,” said Bobbie with 
pride. w This way ! I ’ll introduce you to 
mother.” 

“ I must say,” remarked Mrs. Bell, as they 
walked along the broad space between the lines of 
cottages, w that I ’d no idea you were so comfort- 
able. I thought they was always thrashing of you 
at these schools.” 

“ Not always,” said Bobbie. 
u And fed you on brimstone and treacle.” 

“ You ’re thinking of the old days, mother,” said 
Trixie. M It ’s all been altered sin.ce your time.” 

“ Not, mind you,” said Mrs. Bell, u that I was 
a charity gel. Such education as I had was got at 
a very high-class school off the ’Ackney Road, 
where you had to pay your threepence a week, 
and where the head-mistress — unfortunately she ’d 
no roof to her mouth — had once upon a time 
been lady’s maid in a very good family indeed. I 
don’t say I ’m perfect,” argued the lady, u but the 
stigmer of being a charity — ” 

u Look where you ’re going, mother.” 

8 


A Son of the State 


114 

u Here we are,” said Bobbie. u I ’ll just go 
first and see if you can come in.” 

Not only could they go in, but they did go in ; 
and Mrs. Bell’s astonishment at the cleanliness of 
the place being frank and genuine, the Collingwood 
mother instantly unbent from a rigid attitude of 
defence and took Mrs. Bell into the sitting-room, 
where over a strong cup of tea that extorted from 
Mrs. Bell (her be-rosed bonnet untied and the 
cloak loosened) further compliments, the two 
ladies discussed new soaps as opposed to what they 
called elbow grease, and found common ground in 
applauding the manners of thirty years ago. Bob- 
bie and Miss Trixie Bell, thus released from at- 
tendance, strolled round the gardens, where Bobbie 
showed the young woman his special plot, and 
gave her, comme souvenir , a potato, which owed its 
existence and growth to his efforts. He took her 
to see the small room near the school, where the 
band practised, and confided to her his aspirations 
in regard to the cornet. On Trixie desiring with 
some diffidence to know what Bobbie proposed to 
be when he should arrive at manhood, he replied, 
w A pirate, very like,” and Miss Bell instantly ex- 
pressed her disapproval on the ground that occupa- 
tion at sea took a man from his home to an extent 
that was scarcely convenient. Bobbie acknowl- 


A Son of the State 115 

edged that he had not at present made up his mind 
definitely, and that perhaps after all he should come 
back to Hoxton and dodge about and pick up a 
living somehow, but this plan also found disfavour 
in the young woman’s eyes, and she argued against 
it with much force and eloquence, until Bobbie felt 
bound to interfere. 

“Tell you what,” he said brusquely, “ I shall 
do jest what I jolly well like.” 

Returning to Collingwood after this heated 
debate, the two appeared rather silent, and when a 
long red-haired girl nodded from the other side of 
the way to Bobbie, Miss Bell inquired curtly con- 
cerning her, to which Bobbie replied frivolously 
and incorrectly that her name was Montmorency, 
speaking of her as the lady to whom he was en- 
gaged to be married : the facts being that her name 
was Nutler, and that he and the ruddy-haired 
young lady had not yet exchanged a word with 
each other. Mrs. Bell found herself borne off by 
her perturbed daughter in the middle of an inter- 
esting description of the manner in which she lost 
Mr. Bell, and at the gates the good soul kissed 
Bobbie and gave him a shilling ; the while Miss 
Bell walked off, assuming a languid interest in a 
mail cart belonging to an infant boarder. Bobbie 
touched his cap. 


1 16 A Son of the State 


u It ’s my belief, Trixie,” declared Mrs. Bell, 
before she was out of hearing, “ that he ’ll grow up 
a perfect gentleman.” 

w Oh, will he ? ” said Bobbie to himself, with 
great artfulness. w Shows how much she knows 
about it.” 


A Son of the State 


117 


CHAPTER VII 

/''OCCASIONS when the boy allowed himself an 
outburst of rebellion became more rare as 
he felt his way slowly up the schoolroom to the 
height of the third standard ; the Collingwood 
mother found herself able one day to congratulate 
him on the fact that for two months he had not 
imperilled his right to a meat dinner. Excellence 
of table proved, indeed, with all the boys in the 
Cottage Homes a powerful incentive to good 
behaviour. In their own homes in Hoxton most 
of them had only been sure of two things in regard 
to dinner — either that there would not be enough, 
or that there would be none at all ; thus it was 
that when appeals to a boy’s sense of honour or 
his sense of decorum failed, an appeal to his appe- 
tite proved effective. With Bobbie, moreover, 
there was ever, as a high goal to be striven for, the 
band. With the assistance of a good-natured 
euphonium who lived in Collingwood, and after 
much wrestling with obstinate difficulties, the 
knowledge that F.A.C.E. spelt the open spaces 


n8 A Son of the State 

became his proud possession ; other musical facts 
capitulated on seeing his determination. When- 
ever tempted to punch another boy’s head, and 
roll that boy on the asphalted space where they 
played during the ten minutes’ relief from school, 
and to tear that boy’s pocket, and to do him 
grievous damage, the thought of himself marching 
in the band uniform and blowing the cornet part 
of the “Turkish Patrol” arrested his hand; the 
same thought did him the same good service when, 
on being sent to the storekeeper’s room, he found 
himself near to an open drawer containing sugar 
and chocolate. At times, however, temper burst 
so suddenly that there was no time for the thought 
of cornet to intervene, and then the possibility of 
being allowed to join the band went away so far as 
to be nearly out of sight, and Bobbie mourned. On 
one of these grey days he happened to be de- 
spatched to the band room with a note. The band- 
master was rehearsing the overture to ct Zampa ” 
in the small room overfilled with noise by twenty 
lads who had become scarlet-faced from the ten- 
sion of watching the slips of music before them, 
of watching, also, the bandmaster’s beat. 

u ’Pon my word,” cried the bandmaster, explo- 
sively, rapping the stand before him with his stick, 
and stopping the brazen blasts that had made 


A Son of the State 


ng 

windows shake, “ if you cornets are n’t enough to 
make a saint forget himself. What do you 
think you ’re doing ? ” 

Cornets, with respect, replied that they thought 
they were playing a tune. 

w I should never have guessed that,” retorted the 
bandmaster, caustically. Bobbie delivered his note. 
“ What you ’ll be like if you go out anywhere 
to play this summer don’t bear thinking about.” 

One of the cornets offered the remark that he 
was doing his best. 

“ And bad ’s your best,” cried the bandmaster 
explosively. “ Why, I ’d guarantee to take a 
piece of wood and make it play the cornet better 
than you do, Nutler.” The cornet-player, Nutler, 
here chuckled under the impression that the band- 
master required laughter in recognition of the 
humour of the remark. u Don’t laugh at me, 
sir,” ordered the bandmaster, violently. u I won’t 
have it.” Nutler, the cornet-player, assumed a look 
of abject woe. u And don’t look like that, either.” 

Master Nutler, goaded, inquired resentfully how 
he was to look, then. 

“You’re to look smart, sir,” said the band- 
master, “ if you want to continue in the band. 
There ’s plenty of others, mind you, ready to take 
your place.” 


120 


A Son of the State 


Mastler Nutler muttered the disastrous remark 
that they would take a bit of finding. 

u Oh ! ” said the bandmaster, w would they take 
a bit of finding ? ” He called to Bobbie, now 
leaving the room. “ Boy,” he cried out, u come 
here.” 

Bobbie returned and saluted. 

u Have you any ear for music ? ” 

M How d ’you mean ear, sir ? ” asked Bobbie, 
anxiously. 

u Can you sing ? ” 

w What ’ll you ’ave, sir ? ” said Bobbie. 

“ Anything.” 

The boy, round-eyed with eagerness, sang a 
few lines of an amiable glee which Collingwood 
boarders were accustomed to chant. 

“We’re gowing to the woodlands, to the woodlands gay 
and free. 

Now who will be my comrade and come along with me ? 

For I — ” 

u That ’ll do,” said the bandmaster. “ Do you 
think you could play a musical instrument ? ” 

u I think I could try, sir.” 

“ Good ! You come to elementary practice 

this evening.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” said Bobbie, flushing 
delightedly. 


A Son of the State 


1 2 1 


M Now, Mr. Clever Nutler,” remarked the 
bandmaster acutely to the cornet boy, w we ’ll 
see who ’s right — you or me. Come along. 
Let ’s try this second part again.” 

Master Nutler whispered to Bobbie as he went 
by that for two pins he would wring Bobbie’s 
something neck, but the two pins not being forth- 
coming Master Nutler did not carry his threat 
into effect. Bobbie went out of the room, and as 
he walked by the side of the garden could not 
help noticing how much brighter the sun appeared, 
and how very excellent was the world. He grew 
so ecstatic over the prospect of becoming a man 
of importance that he wrote in the evening to the 
Duchess at the address given to him two years 
before, a letter which seemed to him to err, if 
anything, on the side of modesty. 

“ My dear Duches, — I am writing a few lines to 
hope that you and Mr. Leigh are quite well and getting 
on fine. I have not seen you for a long pereod. 

“I am pleased to tell you that I am principle player 
in the band here, and much esteemed by my masters and 
by my fellow scolars. Everybody says I shall make 
one of the finest music players in the world if I only go 
on and succede. Dear Duches, I think sometimes of 
the old days, but not often, because I am so busy with 
my music. I am an accomplished scolar and a cr. to the 
schools. 


122 


A Son of the State 


“If you ever come to London you can come and see 
me, but dress nice, and do not say nothing about Ely 
Place and Mr. Miller. I am in compond division. Re- 
member me to Mr. Leigh, and I remain, — Yours truly, 

“ Robert Lancaster. 

“ I shall probably play at the Flower Show in Augst. 
They all say the band will be nothing without me. I 
am now twelve years next birthday, which will be also in 
Augst.’ * 

Robert Lancaster took so much care in regard 
to behaviour after his first lesson on the cornet, 
and walked about with such a detached, important 
air, that the Collingwood mother insisted on giving 
him medicine under the impression that his health 
could not be perfect. An outburst of temper 
reassured the good lady, but general improvement 
was a passport that enabled Bobbie to enter the 
gates of her matronly reserve, and she singled him 
out for favour by telling him about her youth in 
Devonshire, — memories that helped to revive 
Bobbie’s thoughts of his one gay spell of hop- 
picking years ago in Kent. The Collingwood 
mother, having been away from her native county 
for twenty years, gave idealistic descriptions of 
Torrington, and Milton Damerel, and Brandis 
Corner, so that the country generally became 
pictured in his mind as a land of fair delight. 


A Son of the State 


123 


When Collingwood’s mother shook her head in 
despair at being unable to describe the joys more 
fully, Bobbie would brag about Hoxton and the 
Haberdashers’ School at the end of Pitfield Street, 
with its statue of Aske and its tall iron railings. 
Somehow the more he talked of the place the less 
inclined he felt to return there. 

u Don’t speak to me about your Hoxtons,” 
begged the Collingwood mother. u Give me de- 
cent people to mix with that know how to wash 
’emselves.” 

“ They ’re pretty smart up there,” urged Bobbie, 
with deference. u They know a thing or two.” 

u They know a thing or two too many,” de- 
clared the Collingwood mother, severely. u I 
don’t suppose you ’ve ever come across the worst 
of ’em, but I ’m told there are thieves and coiners, 
and goodness knows what all about the place.” 

u Think it ’s a fact, mother ? ” inquired Bobbie, 
with innocence. 

u Bless you, yes. The lowest of the low. 
Did n’t you never come across any of them ? ” 

“ Me ? ” echoed the boy. w Goo’ gracious ! 
What a question to ask ! ” 

u Perhaps you were too young to take notice.” 
u That might have been it,” he conceded. 
u Fact of the matter is, my real mother was very 


124 A Son of the State 

careful who she mixed with, and there might ’a 
been railway Snatchers or anything around us for 
all I knew.” 

“ Don't talk about them,” interrupted the Col- 
lingwood mother, shivering. w Let me tell you 
some more about Devonshire.” 

Summer came to the Cottage Homes and 
brought with it cricket matches to be played against 
the boys of the private school a few meadows off, 
where the two different grades of young men met 
on common ground that the best of games offers, 
and where Bobbie developed an ability for bowling 
slows of a peculiarly artful and delusive character, 
insomuch that they came from Lis hand in a way 
that made the batter (confident of hitting a sixer) 
run out to strike, with the result that he not infre- 
quently found himself bowled or stumped. These 
games with boys of happier circumstances did 
much to refine the lads of the Cottage Homes ; 
even Bobbie, whilst he ridiculed and burlesqued 
some of the private-school youths who had a lan- 
guid way of talking and a courteous behaviour, 
found himself selecting some of the tricks of 
manner that seemed to him worthy and com- 
mendable, and these improved him. The cornet 
helped. 

Rehearsals of the band became more furious as 


A Son of the State 125 

the day of the Flower Show approached. Master 
Nutler, by dint of successful experiments in insub- 
ordination, found his engagement for the event in 
peril, and Master Nutler had more than once 
pressed Bobbie to decide the question of their 
musical ability by a stand-up fight. Quite a large 
family of Nutlers lived in the Homes, ranging 
from the lanky, red-haired girl of fifteen to a baby 
of two ; the father and mother of the family hav- 
ing, on retirement to an unknown quarter, gener- 
ously presented their entire quiver-full to the 
Guardians as souvenir of indebtedness to their 
native parish, so that a sample of the Nutler family 
could be found in nearly every cottage and in the 
ophthalmic hospital beyond the gates. The gauge 
of combat being thrown down repeatedly in the 
presence of witnesses, Bobbie felt bound at last to 
take it up ; and arrangements being effected by a 
mature boy, the fight took place furtively in the 
kitchen garden one evening at twilight, Bobbie pun- 
ishing Master Nutler so effectively that he had to 
give that weeping, indignant young gentleman two 
glass alleys, a china apple, and a copy of a book from 
the Index Expurgatorius, in order to prevent him 
from saying anything about it. Master Nutler, 
thus bribed, generously agreed not to report the 
circumstance to the authorities, but he gave infor- 


126 


A Son of the State 


mation to the other members of his family, and 
commanded a vendetta against Robert Lancaster. 
The Nutler family had its private differences ; in- 
deed, its members seldom met without quarrelling, 
but in the presence of an opportunity for spite 
against a common enemy they united, and con- 
ferred amicably on a course of action. The eldest 
Miss Nutler favoured scratching of the enemy’s 
face ; after debate the others induced her to with- 
draw this resolution, and to agree to a plan of more 
elaborate strategy. 

Gay expectation scented the air on the morning 
of the Flower Show. For the band especially, it 
meant occupying on a sunlit lawn a position of 
conspicuous importance, to be followed by admir- 
able feeding and iced lemonade that had no limits 
except those fixed by the band’s own capacity. It 
was an occasion, too, when fair ladies came from 
mansions of the neighbourhood and paid graceful 
compliments to the band, sometimes giving to 
members bright, alluring pieces of silver. Master 
Nutler, who had received intimation that, owing to 
his want of care at rehearsals, his services would 
not be required, went about muttering to himself 
in a gruff undertone, as men will when they are 
suffering from repressed grievances. At twelve 
o’clock, after morning school, the conscientious 


A Son of the State 127 

bandmaster took the boys through the devious ways 
of the u II Trovatore” selection, and piloted them 
with the solo parts of “ H. M. S. Pinafore.” 
Bobbie’s playing of his solo extorted from the 
bandmaster a rare word of approval. 

“You’ve got on wonderfully well, Lancaster,” 
said the bandmaster. 

“ Thanks to you, sir,” said the boy, politely. 

“You aren’t quite so steady as I could wish, 
but I think you ’ll pull through.” 

“You leave it to me,” said Bobbie, rubbing the 
cornet affectionately with his handkerchief. 

“At two o’clock, boys, we start. Take care 
that none of you get into a mischief between now 
and then.” A chorus of assurances. “ Ah ! ” 
sighed the bandmaster, “ I know what boys are. 
Lancaster, can you take a note to the superintend- 
ent for me ? ” 

“ Like a shot, sir.” 

Bobbie, flying out into the asphalted playground 
to take the note in the promised manner, found 
himself tripped up by Master Nutler, who, having 
done this, demanded, with great indignation, to 
know where Bobbie was a-coming to. Bobbie re- 
plied that some day, when he could afford it, he 
proposed to enjoy the pleasure of again wiping the 
floor with Nutler, whereupon that young gentle- 


128 A Son of the State 


man requested that the task should not be post- 
poned, but should be effected at once. Bobbie 
forced himself into composure, and hurried on, 
followed by a parting remark from Nutler, 
“ Sneak!” 

Trotting along by the fringe of flower-beds on 
the right-hand side of the broad walk, in great 
good-humour, the scream of a girl near to one of 
the red-roofed houses made him stop. Lanky 
Miss Nutler, having seen him approach, had 
twisted the arm of the small girl who, two years 
previously, had arrived at the Homes with Bobbie, 
and who, having long since given up tears, had be- 
come one of the brightest little maids in the place. 
At present, however, she appeared terrified out of 
her usual cheerfulness because of superfluous atten- 
tion paid to her by Miss Nutler. 

u Now will you be good ? ” inquired Miss Nutler, 
suavely, as she gave the small girl’s arm another 
twist. 

44 I am good,” cried the small girl, piteously. 
w Leave off twistin’ my wrist, or else I shall have 
to scream.” 

44 Promise not to call me Miss Camel again,” 
ordered the lanky young woman. 

44 I never did.” 

44 1 shall punish you,” said Miss Nutler, with 


A Son of the State 


129 

regret, w more for telling a lie than for calling me 
out of my proper name.” The small girl screamed 
with pain. “ Ah ! you may ’oiler.” 

“ Leave the girl alone,” shouted Bobbie from 
the fence of the garden. 

“ Beg your pardon ? ” said Miss Nutler, with 
studied courtesy. “ I did n’t quite catch what you 
said.” 

“ Leave that little girl alone,” he repeated 
sharply. u If she ’s done anything wrong, it ’s for 
others to punish her, not you.” 

u I don’t wish to ’old any conversation with 
you,” said the young woman, sedately. “ Kindly 
mind your own business.” 

“ Leggo my wrist,” cried the small girl, agonis- 
edly. u Come and make her, Bobbie Lancaster. 
She ’ll — she ’ll break my arm.” 

Master Lancaster darted through the gates. 
The small girl’s face was white with pain ; Miss 
Nutler’s face yellow with defiance. He released 
the small girl quickly, and she ran off. Miss 
Nutler staggered back, and fell, an ungraceful heap, 
on the ground. 

“ ’Elp ! ’Elp ! Murder ! ” yelled Miss Nutler. 
“ Fi — yer ! ” 

u Now what are you kicking up a row for ? ” 
demanded Bobbie. 


9 


13 ° 


A Son of the State 


cc He ’s killed me,” declared Miss Nutler, pant- 
ing, to the mother of her cottage, who had hastened 
out to ascertain the cause of disturbance. “ Oh, 
the villain ! Oh, fetch a doctor ! Oh, don’t let 
him make his escape ! ” 

“ I ’m not going to make no escape,” said the 
boy, sturdily. a I never knocked her down ; she 
fell down.” 

u Oh ! ” cried Miss Nutler. “ To think that he 
should tell a untruth. Oh, I wonder he ain’t 
struck down before my very eyes ! Oh, I ’m going 
into ’sterricks ! ” 

And she went off into what, it must be admitted, 
was, for a young amateur, a very fair imitation of 
a hysterical fit. 

The mother, much concerned, told Bobbie that 
he would have to be taken at once to the Superin- 
tendent. The father of a cottage opposite appeared. 
Interference by boys with girls, said the father, was 
just the one thing that had to be punished more 
than anything, — could not be permitted for a 
single moment, not for a single moment. 

cc Why, what ’s anyone to do,” stammered the 
boy, indignantly, il when they see a big girl like 
her ill-using another ’alf her size ? ” 

The father said that it was not for Bobbie to 
interfere. 


A Son of the State 


13 1 

“ I simply separated of ’em,” pleaded the boy. 
“ She was using the little girl something crool, 
and — ” 

“ Perjerer ! ” interrupted Miss Nutler, reviving 
for this purpose. She closed her eyes again, and 
hammered at the ground with her heels. 

“And I particular don’t want to get into no 
trouble just now. I ’ll explain it all to-morrow.” 

The father said that to-morrow would not do. 
Bobbie must go along with him now to the Super- 
intendent’s house, the while the mother would use 
her best endeavours to restore Miss Nutler. The 
latter task proved to be one of no difficulty, for the 
young woman, on the palms of her hands being 
slapped, re-opened her eyes, and said faintly, — 

“ Where am I ? T ell me, someone ! Is it all 
a ’orrible dream ? ” 

The Superintendent, ordinarily a cheery man, 
whistled gravely as he listened to the report against 
the boy standing at the other end of the table. 

“ Thought you were a good lad, Lancaster.” 

“ Not much use being good, sir,” growled Bob- 
bie, “ when your luck ’s against you.” 

The father, an old policeman, enjoying this echo 
of the old days, repeated and added to his report of 
Miss Nutler’s condition, remarking sagely that ex- 
treme violence must have been used. 


i3 2 


A Son of the State 


“We’ll investigate it fully to-morrow,” com- 
manded the Superintendent. w No time now. 
Meanwhile you ’ll stay at home, my lad.” 

“ What ? ” said Bobbie, amazedly. “ And not 
play at the show ? ” 

“And not play at the show. Someone else 
must be found to take your place. I ’m sorry.” 

The boy swallowed something in his throat, and 
his under lip twitched. He looked round at the 
framed list of rules on the wall, at the papers on 
the table, and at everything in the room with a 
dazed air. 

“I’m a — a bit soriy about it, too,” he said 
gloomily. 

“ Rules are rules,” mentioned the Superintendent. 

“ Someone shall suffer for it,” declared the boy, 
with sudden fierceness. “ I ain’t going to be 
jumped on just because — ” 

“Take him down to Collingwood,” ordered the 
Superintendent. 

“ Can’t you give me a good wolloping, sir, and 
have done with it ? ” 

“ Take him away, please.” 

It was a fierce and an aggrieved and a revenge- 
ful lad who looked out of the window of Colling- 
wood that afternoon and watched the band 
marching out towards the gates, uniformed in its 


A Son of the State 


133 


best, and carrying its instruments proudly. The 
rays of the bright sun reflected in the shining brass, 
and Robert Lancaster blinked as he looked at them, 
but he did not cry, because, when he saw Nutler 
marching with cornet in hand, his hot little brain 
racked with a burning sense of injustice. He went 
upstairs and watched the short line of boys until 
trees intervened. He had some vague idea of 
breaking everything in the cottage that could be 
broken, but a moment’s consideration informed 
him that this as a remedy would be imperfect. 
The mother called to him, offering some work in 
cleaning the grate, and Bobbie, setting to this with 
great strenuousness, produced such excellent re- 
sults that the mother gave him her sympathy for 
his present situation, and joined him in denouncing 
Miss Nutler in good set terms. Nevertheless, the 
grievance remained, and the mother went so far in 
her cordial agreement that, after a while, the griev' 
ance appeared to have grown enormously, and he 
felt himself to be the very worst used man in the 
whole world. Somebody’s head should be punched 
for this; if he had Teddy Sullivan’s revolver, a 
more convincing action could be adopted. It 
would be rather fine and dramatic to go out when 
the band returned and, covering them with a six- 
shooter, force them to hold up their hands and 


134 


A Son of the State 


give him full apology for the wrong that had been 
done to him. Failing the presence of an arm of 
warfare, it seemed not easy to see what he could 
do. All that he could decide in his aggrieved, 
blazing, infuriated mind was that he would do 
something. 

When a post letter came at about four o’clock 
addressed to him in a strange old-fashioned writing, 
he did not at first open it, because, rare as letters 
were, he felt gloomily that nothing like good 
fortune could come to him on that day. He 
tore the envelope after a while, and prepared 
himself for another shaft of ill luck. A postal 
order dropped out, and his anticipations whirled 
round. 

“ My dear Bobbie, — I were glad to hear from you, 
and to know that you was getting on so well in the 
world. My husband were also greatly pleased. He is 
now what is called a landoner, and is much ocupied dur- 
ing the day looking after the men that is employed under 
him. 

“ Dear Bobbie, you must know that we live in an 
imense hotel, and that I ride to the hounds every day 
of my life. We also intertain the gentry of the neigh- 
bourhood, who treat us as their equals or more. We are 
not proud of our good fortune, for we know that pride 
cometh before a fall. I inclose a trifle to buy yourself 
something ; I could easily send more, as we are, so to 


A Son of the State 


135 

speak, roling in money, but I am in a hurry to catch 
the post. 

“ My husband sends his best respects, and hopes you 
will continue to grow up a good boy and respect your 
elders. 

** Yours affect’ ly, L. Leigh. 

“Fond love and kisses.” 

Bobbie read this friendly and agreeable letter 
from the Duchess three times. Then, looking at 
the address carefully, he started up with a sudden 
inspiration. 

u I know what I ’ll do,” he said to himself ex- 
citedly. u I ’ll bunk off.” 

He made his preparations with haste, having a 
vague fear that something might happen to induce 
him to change his mind. The mother of Colling- 
wood Cottage was dozing in her kitchen as he 
came downstairs, and he had a good mind to kiss 
the good soul ; but he knew that doing this might 
twist his determination, and he set his mouth hard. 
He stuffed his small bundle under his waistcoat, 
and went across to the band-room with the stolid 
face of a man obeying orders. 

“ Please, I ’ve got to take my cornet and get 
down to the Flower Show as sharp as I possibly 

if 

can. 

The same story contented the gate-keeper, who 


136 A Son of the State 

gave him the correct time, and Bobbie started 
along the white road at a quick pace. At the first 
turning he branched off, and, skirting the fields 
belonging to the Cottage Homes, returned to the 
town, where a post-office was to be found. There 
he changed the postal order. In five minutes he 
was speeding away Londonwards, with defiant 
head well out of the carriage windows, a cigarette 
between his lips, the cornet and his handkerchiefed 
bundle in his hand. 

M This,” said the boy truculently to the distant 
red-roofed homes, — u this ’ll let you see what a 
man can do when he ’s put upon.” 


A Son of the State 


1 37 


CHAPTER VIII 

/ | V HE confusing eddy of people outside Liver- 
pool Street Station startled him, so that he 
stood back to let them go by, until he remembered 
that they did not cease to flow before midnight, 
and then he laughed at himself and made his way 
out into Bishopsgate. He had a fine sense of free- 
dom in the consciousness that he was his own 
master ; within wide limitations he could go where 
he pleased and do as he pleased, and no one had 
the right to say him nay. It seemed like getting 
rid of a suit of armour. He gave himself the 
luxury of swearing softly as he walked along, in 
order to prove conclusively that he was no longer 
trammelled by the code of rules that obtained at 
the Cottage Homes. Walking up towards Shore- 
ditch Church, it appeared to the boy that he was as 
fine a fellow as any in the crowd of men hurrying 
along the pavement, that his daring and his inde- 
pendence were sufficient for about six ordinary 
men ; he felt very much inclined to stop one or 
two in order to tell them so. The better to live 


138 A Son of the State 

up to his new character of a regular blade, he 
turned into the saloon bar of a gorgeous, over- 
mirrored, over-painted, over-furnished public-house, 
and addressing a superb young lady who behind the 
bar read a pamphlet called “ An Amusing Way to 
Pick up Biology,” asked in a deep, effective voice 
for a sherry and bitters. The superb young lady, 
seemingly dazed with study, gave him instead a 
small bottle of lemonade and a hard biscuit ; Bob- 
bie, awed by her appearance, did not dare to com- 
plain of the mistake. He endeavoured, however, to 
entice the large young woman into manly conversa- 
tion by asking her how long it was since she had 
left the old place, but she only answered absently, 
without looking up from her book, “ Outside with 
those bootlaces, please,” and Bobbie refrained from 
repeating his question. 

At the corner of Drysdale Street he met a first 
friend in the person of Niedermann, otherwise 
Nose, grown ridiculously tall, and garbed in a frock 
coat queerly short at the sleeves. Niedermann 
did not know him at first, but when recognition 
came he became at once interested, and asked a 
number of questions, some of which Bobbie an- 
swered truthfully. 

<c What you ought to go and do, ole man,” said 
Niedermann, acutely, “ is to disguise yourself.” 


A Son of the State 


139 


u How d’ you mean disguise myself? ” 
u Why, put on a false beard,” said the frock- 
coated lad, “ and blue spectacles, and what not. 
You *11 get copped else.” 

u They won’t trouble,” said the boy, uneasily. 
u Take my advice or not, jest as you like. But 
I know what I should do.” 

“ Very likely they’re glad to get rid of me,” 
argued Bobbie. u It ’ll be a saving to them of 
pounds a year, and besides — ” 

“Tell you what you could do,” said Master 
Niedermann, looking at him thoughtfully, u and 
that too without no trouble. You see this coat 
and weskit of mine.” 

u I see what there ’s left of ’em.” 
w Swop ! ” said the long youth, walking with 
Bobbie down towards the railway arch. u These 
what I ’ve got are a bit short for me, because I ’m 
a grown lad, as you may see. But they ’ll suit 
you a treat, and, besides, if they circulate your de- 
scription, no one in these togs ’ll recognise you 
for a moment.” 

“ Would n’t see me if I was to get inside of ’em.” 
“ I think you ’re wrong,” said Niedermann, 
patiently. “ What did you say the address was 
that you ’ve run away from ? ” Bobbie gave the 
information. “ I shall remember.” 


140 A Son of the State 

u You’ve no call to remember,” said the boy, 

w I carry it all ’ere,” said Master Niedermann 
darkly, tapping his unwashed forehead ; “ regular 
store’ouse of information my brain is.” 

“ What makes you call it a brain ? ” asked 
Bobbie. 

“ Do you particularly want your ’ead punched ? ” 
asked Master Niedermann, fiercely. “ Because, if 
so, you ’ve only got to say the word, and — ” He 
recovered himself with an effort. w But putting 
all argument a one side,” he said genially, u you 
try on my coat and see how it fits.” 

On Bobbie complying, Master Niedermann took 
no pains to conceal his approval of the change. 

w My word ! ” he said, w you might a been 
measured for it by a West-End tailor.” 

u Ain’t it a bit long in the tails ? ” asked Bobbie. 

“ All the better for that,” declared the long 
youth, with enthusiasm. w They ’re wearing ’em 
long.” 

u Now give me back my jacket,” said Bobbie. 

cc That be ’anged for a tale,” answered Nieder- 
mann, with an injured expression. u A bargain ’s 
a bargain.” 

u But this is n’t a bargain,” expostulated the boy 
in the frock-coat. w I never said — ” 



A Son of the State 


141 

cc Look here,” said the long youth, threateningly. 
u Do you want me to give you up to the police ? ” 

After the interview with Master Niedermann 
Bobbie determined to avoid friends for the rest of 
that evening. He therefore walked about the streets 
of Hoxton, his cornet wrapped in a newspaper under 
his arm, dodging when he saw a face known to him. 
He glanced at himself on passing shop windows, 
and tried to believe that the frayed frock-coat 
gave him an increased air of manliness. Strolling 
cautiously into Pimlico Walk, and inspecting the 
little bonnet shop kept by Eliza Bell, he saw Trixie 
at the counter ; her black hair rolled up and 
arranged carefully above her pretty neck, she wore 
a pink blouse with neat collar and cuffs, her face 
had a touch of colour, and Bobbie for the first time 
felt that he would like to kiss her. He knew, 
however, that to enter the shop of Mrs. Bell would 
necessitate listening to reproof and good advice, 
neither of which things was that evening desired 
by him. The same motive stopped him from tak- 
ing a ’bus to Fetter Lane to call upon Myddleton 
West, whose address he remembered; he told 
himself that he enjoyed liberty too much to allow 
it to be checked by sage counsels. Going up to 
Ely Place and turning, with some idea of going 
through in order to see the house where he had 


142 


A Son of the State 


spent some of his life, he had but passed the dwarf 
posts at the entrance when at least six separate 
and offensive odours rushed furiously at him. He 
coughed and turned back. 

But in the Theatre of Varieties he found joy. 
He paid a shilling to the old lady in the pay box 
up the sawdust-covered steps, and on the old lady 
shouting, “ Jimes,” James, in uniform just inside 
the swing doors of the crowded, heated music hall, 
said, “ Yessir. This way, sir. Stand a one side, 
please, and let the genelman pass,” and conducted 
Bobbie ceremoniously past the folk who were 
standing at the back of the first balcony ; unlocked 
the door, showed him into the box ; fetched a pro- 
gramme, accepted twopence with a military salute, 
called Bobbie “ Me lord,” evidently mistaking 
him for a member of the aristocracy. Then the 
boy settled down on the front bench in the box, 
preparing to enjoy himself. Fine to see the up- 
turned faces from the twopenny pit — they sat 
down in the pit now, he observed ; in his day you 
had to stand — the rows and rows of interested 
faces in the twopenny gallery, and to note that 
many of them were watching him, the only occu- 
pant of the shilling boxes. He felt confused at 
first with this attention. Shielding himself behind 
the dusty curtains, he gazed at Mile. Printemps, 


A Son of the State 143 

who, with paper rose in her hair, bare arms, bare 
shoulders, and scarlet tights, kept her footing on a 
large white marble globe, juggling the while with 
plates and knives and bottles. Once or twice 
Mile. Printemps, who was a little thin, perhaps, 
and red at the elbows, but an agreeable person for all 
that, came over on the great white globe quite close 
to the box in which Bobbie was seated, whereupon 
he said softly (being a desperate sort of rattle out 
for the evening), “ I ’ll ’ave your flower, miss,” 
and felt relieved to find that the thin lady on the 
globe had not overheard him. Then came Bray 
and Wilkins, described on the yellow slip as Irish- 
American duettists, the finest humourists of two 
hemispheres, whose humour was not, perhaps, so 
much fine as broad, being conducted somewhat in 
this way : Bray, facing the audience, shouted, M Oi 
say ; have you heard about me wife ? ” and 
Wilkins, also facing the audience, shouted back, 
“ Oi have not heard about your wife ; ” after a 
whispered communication, Wilkins assumed in- 
credulity, and said, u Oi don’t believe it, sorr,” 
and Bray, indignant, said, u It ’s the truth I ’m 
giving ye; a fine bouncing boy at eighteen minutes 
past five.” “ Oi ’ll not believe it,” persisted 
Wilkins, “ it ’s all your kid,” to which Bray replied 
indignantly, “ It ’s not my kid, sorr,” and Wilkins 


1 44 


A Son of the State 


retorted at once, “Whose kid is it, then ? ” Fol- 
lowed tremendous personal chastisement, which 
made Bobbie laugh until tears came. After the 
American duettists, Mr. Tom Somebody came 
shyly on the stage, affecting to be astonished at 
finding himself there and rather wishful to go off 
again, but, on being humorously appealed to by the 
conductor, deciding to stay. Mr. Tom Some- 
body had been jilted by the lady of his heart, and 
it seemed to the judicial observer that the lady 
might have found excuse for her conduct in the 
singular manner of apparel the gentleman wore, for 
he had no hat, but only the brim of a hat, his 
jacket was very short, and his trousers very baggy ; 
a paper front stuck out ludicrously at his chest, 
and — this made Bobbie shriek with delight — he 
had in the hurry of dressing placed his collar 
around his waist. 

“For she ’s a daisy, 

She sends me crazy, 

No wonder people say I 'm getting pline j 
She only flouts me. 

And sometimes outs me, 

I ’m goin’ simply barmy on account of Emmer-jine.” 

At half-past eight the band played the National 
Anthem ; the attendants shouted the order for dis- 
persal, and Bobbie, giving up the private box with 


A Son of the State 


145 


a sigh, followed the crowd down the stone stair- 
case. Outside, the patrons of the second perform- 
ance waited impatiently in a line at the edge of the 
pavement. Bobbie recognised one or two faces in 
the crowd ; they looked older, he thought, and 
slightly dirtier; those whom he remembered as 
boys of about his own age were accompanied by 
young ladies, whose bare heads shone with oil, and 
who wore, for the most part, maroon-coloured 
dresses, partly shielded by aprons ; they seemed in 
excellent spirits, and shouted defiant badinage to 
friends at a distance. To Bobbie walking down 
towards Old Street, it occurred that the true touch 
of manliness would not be achieved until he se- 
cured the company of a member of the opposite 
sex. He went into a tobacconist’s shop and 
bought a twopenny cigar, with a paper belt, which 
he selected from a box labelled w The Rothschild 
Brand,” and smoking this, he, with the cornet 
placed in the capacious tail pocket of the frock- 
coat, strolled through Shoreditch to Hackney Road. 
He winked at one or two young women hurrying 
home with hot suppers laid on pieces of paper, but 
they only sneered at him, one lady of about thir- 
teen declaring indignantly that, were her hands not 
full, she would fetch him a clip side the ear. 

“ It ’s this blooming coat,” said Bobbie, ruefully. 


10 


146 A Son of the State 

These repulses brought disappointment, but 
happily there existed other ways of proving to the 
world that he was now thoroughly grown up. He 
went into a quiet public-house, where, in the pri- 
vate bar, some bemused men were talking politics, 
and on the invitation of the anxious young propri- 
etor, who appeared to be new to the business and 
desirous of obtaining custom, Bobbie gave his opin- 
ion on the question of increasing the strength of 
the Navy, and, encouraged by beer, found himself 
quite eloquent, — so eloquent, indeed, that presently 
he insisted upon contradicting everybody, and some 
unpleasantness ensued. 

“ You’ll ’scuse me, my boy,” said a white-faced, 
sleepy-eyed baker, pointing unsteadily at Bobbie 
with the stem of his pipe, u you ’ll ’scuse me if I 
take the lib’ty of teilin’ you — or rather I sh’ say, 
informing you — that you ’re a liar.” 

“ You repeat that,” said Bobbie, flushed and 
aggressive. u Go on ! Say. that again and see 
what ’appens.” 

w It was only meant as a pleasant joke, I ex- 
pect,” urged the young proprietor nervously, from 
the other side of the counter. “ Shake ’ands and 
make it up.” 

u Let him call me that again,” said the boy, 
fiercely. u That’s all. I ’ll learn him, the — ” 


A Son of the State 


147 

ct What ’d I call you ? ” inquired the tipsy 
baker. u Best of my reflection I called you 
hon’ble young gen’leman. Do you deny, sir, that 
you ’re hon’ble young gen’leman? Because, if so,” 
added the baker, with great solemnity, u if so, I 
shall have great pleasure in — hie — drinkin’ your 
’ealth.” 

w I ’ve been insulted ! ” shouted the scarlet-faced 
boy, violently, u in the presence of gentlemen ! I 
want this put right ! I want an apology ! I ’m 
as good a man — ” 

u Look ’ere,” interrupted the anxious young 
publican. u ’Ave a ceegar at my expense, and let 
bygones be bygones.” 

u My young friend,” said the baker, balancing 
to and fro as he rested one hand on the zinc 
counter, “ if I ’ve ’pologised to you in any way, 
I can only say that it ’s purely eler’eal error on 
my part, and I ’m prepared to most humbly 
insult—” 

a You mean,” corrected the young publican, 
u that if you ’ve insulted him you ’re prepared to 
apologise.” 

“ Dammit,” cried the baker, turning explosively 
on the young proprietor, u can’t two gen’lemen 
settle their pers’nal disputes without a blooming 
pot-’ouse keeper dictatin’ to ’em ? What ? ” 


148 A Son of the State 

“ Yes,” said Bobbie, not to be outdone, w what 
th’ ’ell do you — ” 

“You mistook my meaning gentlemen,” said 
the young publican, penitently. “ All I want is 
peace and quietness.” 

“ Precious rum way you ’ve got of going about 
it,” said Bobbie, truculently. “ You take my 
advice, Mr. Public-house, and don’t you interfere 
with whatever matters there may be in this world 
that don’t in no wise whatsoever tend to concern 
you.” 

“ Spoke,” declared the tipsy baker, offering his 
hand to Bobbie, — “ spoke like a norator. Give 
us a song, ole man.” 

“ Gentlemen, I do hope — ” 

“ Can’t give you a song,” said the flushed boy ; 
“ but I can give you a tune on the cornet.” 

“ Please, gentlemen, do not — ” 

“ Music of the cornet,” declared the bemused 
baker, “ is like gen’le dew of ’eaven. You blow 
up, my boy.” 

To the terror of the young publican, Bobbie 
produced his cornet and played a verse of “Tom 
Bowling,” causing the baker to become maudlin, 
and to declare tearfully that he wished he had been 
a sailor instead of an adjective baker, trampled on 
by most and scorned by all. On Bobbie playing 


A Son of the State 149 

the prelude to the first set of some quadrilles, the 
private bar, standing up tipsily, set to partners and 
went through the evolutions with intense gravity, 
excepting the baker, who, acting as M. C., stum- 
bled in and out, crying loudly, “ La’ies’ chain ! ” 
The agitated young publican, fearful of conse- 
quences, felt constrained at last to send for a 
policeman, and when one came and touched the 
boy cornet player on the shoulder, saying, u Out- 
side with that instrument of torture, if you please,” 
then Bobbie stepped out of the swing doors and 
through a small crowd with the proud conscious- 
ness that, having been ejected from a public-house, 
real manhood was now his, and could never be 
taken from him. He stumbled along Hackney 
Road with his cornet, a slip of a crowd following. 
To escape them he jumped clumsily on a tram. 

u ’O’ tight,” said the conductor. 

The boy rode in a confused state of mind to the 
end of the journey at Lea Bridge Road, and then, 
partly sobered by the night air, returned by the 
tram. He felt quite happy ; other passengers 
found themselves afire with curiosity to know what 
he was laughing about. Watching the lighted 
shops and the cheerful folk on the pavement be- 
low, Bobbie decided hilariously that this was better 
than the Cottage Homes. This was good. This 


A Son of the State 


150 

was enjoyment. This was independence. This 
was freedom. This was life. 

At Cambridge Heath Station he descended, be- 
cause he saw outside a large public-house a line of 
brakes decorated with branches of trees and with 
Chinese lanterns ; joyous men and women danced 
on the square space to no music. This seemed 
the kind of movement in which he desired to be. 
The men and women had been out into the coun- 
try for the day ; they appeared to have brought a 
good deal of the country back with them, for their 
hats and bonnets and clothes were decorated with 
bunches of flowers and oak leaves. The appear- 
ance of the boy with his cornet was welcomed 
with enthusiasm. Hoisted up on a huge empty 
cask, he, by command, played gustily a waltz that 
made the couples lay heads on their partners* 
shoulders and move slowly, dreamily around. Of 
all the moments of pure delight that Bobbie, as a 
boy, was to experience, this ever stood in his 
memory high and high above all the rest. Pres- 
ently the whirling crowd stopped exhaustedly. 

“ Ask the little boy,” suggested one of the pant- 
ing women, “ to play a what’s-a-name tune.” 

u A comic ? ” 

u No, no, no ! Not a comic. You know what 
I mean, only you ’re so stupid.” 


A Son of the State 


I5i 

M A love tune ? ” 

u Bah ! ” said the lady, cc you ’re like all the 
men ; you ’ve got no sense. What I mean is a 
patriotic song.” 

Therefore, u Rule Britannia ” from the cornet 
to the great content of the bean-feasters and of the 
two or three constables, looking on at the scene 
good-naturedly. A hat went round before the 
party re-ascended the brakes, and Bobbie found 
himself in possession of a load of coppers that 
weighed him down on one side until he bethought 
himself of the ingenious plan of dividing them and 
placing one half in each pocket of his trousers. 
He saw the brakes depart, and was about to leave 
when he found his arm seized violently. 

“ I ’ve got him,” shrieked Master Niedermann, 
fiercely. u I thought I should find him. Evil- 
doers never succeed for long. I was sure — ” 

<c Leggo my arm,” said Bobbie. 

w Likely thing,” screamed the long youth, satir- 
ically, “after I ’ve took all this trouble to find you. 
Gimme back my frock-coat ! Gimme back my 
frock-coat, that you pinched from me ! Gimme 
back — ” 

One of the constables stepped forward. What 
was all this about? 

“ Sergeant,” cried Master Niedermann, flatter- 


152 


A Son of the State 


ingly, “thank goodness you’re ’ere. You’ll see 
that right’s done. He’s robbed me of my best 
frock-coat, and I want it back.” 

u It ’s a lie,” declared Bobbie. “ Fact of the 
matter is — ” 

“Accuses me now,” said the estimable youth, 
with a pained air, “ of telling a falsehood. Why, 
I could n’t tell a falsehood, and well you know it, 
inspector.” 

Constable begged to say that he knew nothing 
of the kind. Let the boy tell his tale. 

“We changed coats, sir,” said Bobbie, “against 
my wish, and — ” 

“ There ’s ’alf a dollar sewed in the corner of 
it,” interrupted Nose, “ and he must ’ave known 
it, or else he ’d never ’ave thrown me down on the 
ground and clutched my neck with both his hands 
— like so — r and then pulled the coat bodily off 
of me.” 

Constable, his legal mind detecting an error in 
the statement, asked, in view of the fact that the 
boy had but two hands, how this was done. 

“Ast him!” said Master Niedermann. “He 
knows ! He did it. And make him gimme back 
my coat and my ’alf dollar.” 

Constable requested to be informed how the 
half dollar had been earned or obtained. 


A Son of the State 153 

cc Be the sweat of me brow,” declared the long 
youth. cc How d’ ye think ? I ’d forgot where I 
put it for the moment, or else he should never 
have had it. And if he don’t give it me, I give 
him in charge.” 

u ’Ang me if I give it back,” said Bobbie, 
with sudden asperity. “You said a bargain’s a 
bargain, and so it’ll ’ave to be. I sha’n’t change 
again.” 

“ Then,” said Master Niedermann, oracularly, 
w I ’ereby beg to give him into custody.” 

The constable seemed undecided. Bobbie 
watched his face, and trembled as he observed a 
slight increase in gravity. The police station 
meant at least an ignominious return to the 
Homes, and to the precise and dogmatically 
ordered life there. A crowd had gathered round 
close to the disputant parties, and Bobbie, with- 
drawing his anxious glance from the policeman for 
a moment to look around, saw a very little woman, 
whose face he remembered. Miss Threepenny. 
Her queer head came to about the waists of the 
people standing near to her. 

u I suppose I ’d better,” said the constable. 

w Twenty-five, Barton Buildings,” whispered 
little Miss Threepenny. Then, with a quick 
change of voice and manner, u Who ’s got my 


i54 


A Son of the State 


purse ? Who ’s stole my purse ? Police ! Stop 
thief ! ’Elp — ’elp — ’elp ! ” 

The constable hurried quickly from the doubt- 
ful case on which he was engaged to this that ap- 
peared more definite. In the commotion, Bobbie, 
holding his cornet tightly, made swift escape ; he 
had reached Bethnal Green Road before Miss 
Threepenny — having discovered that her purse 
had, after all, not been stolen — had apologised to 
the constable for the unnecessary trouble that she 
had given. Bobbie was still recovering breath at 
the entrance to the giant block of model dwellings 
to which Miss Threepenny had hurriedly directed 
him, when that excellent little woman trotted up. 

“You’re a nice young man,” said Miss Three- 
penny, severely, w I don’t think. Going and get- 
ting yourself mixed up in a common street row, 
and f6rgetting what you owe to your poor dead 
mother and — ” 

Bobbie explained truthfully, and little Miss 
Threepenny relented. 

w What are you going to do now ? ” she asked, 
looking up at him with less acerbity. 

w Get a bed in a coffee-shop, I s’pose,” said the 
boy. u To-morrow I shall get off" to the country 
to see — to see some friends. This bloomin’ 
London makes my nut ache.” 


A Son of the State 155 

The small woman stood on the third step of the 
stone stairs, so that she thus came face to face 
with Bobbie. She swung her key round her 
finger reflectively. 

“You’ll only get into more trouble,” she said. 
w Likely as not,” replied the boy, recklessly. 
u I can’t do right, somehow.” 

“ I ’ve nearly ’alf a mind,” said the little woman, 
M to make you up a bed in my sitting-room.” 

“ Got two rooms now, miss ? ” 
ct Rather,” said the little woman, proudly. 

He followed Miss Threepenny upstairs, through 
passages, and up more stairs to her rooms. There 
the diminutive woman took off her bonnet and set 
to work, as she said, to put the place to rights, 
which, seeing that everything was perfectly neat 
and in order, seemed a superfluous act, and indeed 
consisted mainly in moving the furniture from its 
proper place and setting it back again. Bobbie 
felt confused and very tired, but the little woman 
appeared so obviously glad to have someone to talk 
to tha'c he listened politely to her good-tempered 
chatter. They had supper together, and then 
Miss Threepenny did something to an elderly 
easy-chair in the manner of an expert conjuror, 
whereupon it instantly changed into a middle-aged 
couch. She bustled in and out of her own room, 


156 A Son of the State 

bringing a pillow and some sheets ; presently Bob- 
bie found that he could no longer look at the 
couch without yawning desperately. 

“ In the morning,” said the tiny woman, lighting 
a candle, “ you sleep on, because I shall be out 
and about early. And I shall be ’ome midday to 
give you your dinner.” 

“ Goo’ night,” said the boy sleepily, taking his 
coat off. 

“ Dear, dear ! ” cried the little woman, with a 
comic affectation of bashfulness. “ Do wait till 
I ’m out of the room. You forget that I ’m an 
old maid. Some of you young men nowadays are 
enough to shock a saint.” 

“ Don’t you wish you ’d got a son of your own, 
miss ? ” asked Bobbie, “ to live here and look after 
you ? ” 

“ Stuff and nonsense ! ” she answered quickly. 
u What should I want with a great big slab of a 
boy knocking about the place ? There ’s a ridicu- 
lous idea, to be sure ! Wonder what put that into 
your head, for goodness’ sake.” 

a Nothing special,” said the boy, yawning. 
“Goo’ ni’.” 

u All the same,” said the little woman, hesitat- 
ingly, “if you like, Bobbie, you can do this. Jest 
for fun, you know. You can give me a kiss on 


A Son of the State 


157 

the forehead and say, c Good night, mother.’ ” 
She laughed awkwardly. “ Only for the lark of 
the thing, you know.” 

“ Good night, mother,” said the boy obediently, 
bending down and kissing her above the eyes. 
The little woman gasped and ran quickly to her 
room. 

In the morning Bobbie awoke, when at six 
o’clock Miss Threepenny was at work still set- 
ting the place to rights, and arranging, as he 
quietly noticed, his breakfast. As she came over 
to him, before going off, and looked down at him, 
he kept his eyes half-closed. When presently he 
had risen, and had eaten his breakfast, he made 
out an account on the back of an envelope thus, 
and laid the money upon it : — 

Bread id. 

2 Saussages 2 d. 

Tea id. 

Lodgings 3 d. 

Tot jd. 

With thanks. R. L. 

He took his cornet and went very quietly down 
the stone stairs. 


158 A Son of the State 


CHAPTER IX 


HE boy discovered in London that day 



how much possession of a little money 


helps enjoyment. One does not want very much 
in London, but one does want some, and Bobbie, 
with four or live shillings in his pocket, found 
delights that London millionaires can never en- 
counter. Two shillings and threepence Of his 
fortune went to the purchase in City Road of 
a hard felt hat. The proprietor of the shop urged 
him to purchase a silk hat, and the boy tried 
one on, laughing very much at his own reflection 
in the mirror, but there were several good reasons 
why he should not agree with the proprietor ( u A 
silk hat,” argued the proprietor, “ tells me that a 
man ’s a gentleman of which one was that he 
remembered reading a reply to a correspondent in 
one of the newspapers at Collingwood Cottage, 
which stated that a silk hat was not de rigueur 
for the country or the seaside ; a second that he 
did not possess more than half the amount re- 
quired for the cheapest specimen. The bowler 


A Son of the State 159 

hat, however, brought great content. Later in 
the day, finding himself in Hyde Park, he fas- 
tened his long frock-coat as well as the existing 
buttons would permit, and strolled down the 
Row, lifting his hat now and again to no one 
with great courtesy. He became exceedingly 
wishful to find some person with whom he might 
talk. He was getting on rather well with a little 
six-year-old maid, and had made for her fair-haired 
doll a couch of grass near the Achilles statue, and 
the little girl had told him that she had such a boo- 
ful mamma and such a horrid large nurse and 
such a fearfully hard piano and such oceans of 
toys, when she and her doll were whisked away 
magically by the large nurse referred to, and 
Bobbie spent two whole hours in searching for 
them with no success. Out in Knightsbridge a 
string of sandwich men walked along gloomily, 
bearing advertisements of a new piece at one of 
the West End theatres; it occurred to the boy that 
it would be rather a fine, lordly act to pay his 
shilling and go to a first-class play, just for all the 
world as though he lived in Belgravia. The idea 
clipped his fancy, and despite the fact that after 
dinner at a cheap restaurant, whose proud boast 
was, u Come in here, and you will never go any- 
where else,” he found that he would only have 


i6o 


A Son of the State 


just enough left to pay his fare to the nearest rail- 
way station to Brenchley, he made up his mind to 
go to the theatre. He had a good wash at the 
cheap restaurant, and parted his hair in the middle, 
looking very closely to see if there existed a sus- 
picion of down upon his upper lip. It was mag- 
nificent, this life of independence, but, obviously, 
there were drawbacks. For instance, you had 
not only to arrange for your meals, but you had 
also to pay them ; this done, the fact remained 
that neither the quantity nor the quality proved so 
good as in the Cottage Homes. The boy foresaw 
(without troubling himself very much about it) that 
herein might be found a source of inconvenience. 
He packed the cornet very carefully in a borrowed 
newspaper; the cornet was slightly in the way, 
but he remembered that it belonged to the Cottage 
Homes, and he meant to return it there eventually. 
It was wrong to steal. 

At the gallery door of the theatre that evening 
he found himself in a short queue, side by side 
with a thoughtful-looking youth, who carried on 
his arm an aged travelling-rug. This youth talked 
very learnedly to Bobbie about the new phases of 
the drama, Bobbie listening with respect because 
it was a subject on which he felt himself to be not 
completely informed. 


A Son of the State 


161 


“Convention,” said the thoughtful young man, 
covering both of his arms with the old travelling- 
rug and edging nearer to the two ladies in front, 
‘‘convention, my dear sir, is the curse of the 
modern drama. The drama is enwrapped with 
iron shackles, and it screams aloud — excuse me, 
madam, they ’re pushing at the back — and it 
screams aloud, ‘ Release my bonds and give me 
liberty.’ ” 

“I see,” said Bobbie. 

“ What we want is to see the realities of life 
placed upon the stage,” went on the thoughtful 
youth, “ not a transparent imitation. We require 
the stage to give up its great services to the thresh- 
ing out of some of the world’s trying problems, 
and to — ” 

“ Best piece I ever see was at the Britannia, 
’Oxton,” interrupted Bobbie, “ when I was a kid. 
There was a man in it and a woman, and you 
must understand — ” 

“ Got change for half a sovereign ? ” interrupted 
the youth. “ Small silver will do.” 

“ This is all I ’ave,” said Bobbie, showing the 
coins which were left to him, “besides the bob 
I ’ve got in me hand.” 

“ Ah,” said the youth, regretfully. “ That ’s no 
use to me. Put it back in your breast-pocket — 


ii 


A Son of the State 


162 


so. Allow me. If you place your handkerchief 
over it in this way, you ’ll find yourself quite safe 
from thieves.” 

w I s’ pose there are some about still.” 

“Town ’s full of ’em,” said the other, regret- 
fully. 

The narrow crowd made a movement, and the 
pairs closed up. A facetious man in the very 
front rapped twice at the doors, affecting to be 
the post. 

u What ’s to-night ? ” asked the youth, suddenly. 
Bobbie gave the information. w Heavens ! ” ex- 
claimed the youth, with great concern. “ Here 
am I wasting my time hanging about when I ’ve got 
an engagement with a lady of title at a reunion.” 

“ Say you forgot all about it,” suggested Bobbie. 

u I would,” said the troubled youth, confiden- 
tially, u only Lady B.’s such a jealous woman. It ’s 
as much as she ’ll do to let me out of her sight.” 

“Well,” remarked Bobbie, chaffingly, “ if you 
will get mixed up with the fair sex, you must put 
up with the consequences.” The youth went off 
as the doors opened, and the short, eel-like crowd 
slipping in demurely, went up the stairs. 

When they were all seated it appeared that 
there was plenty of room for everybody; indeed 
only the two front rows secured any patrons, and 


A Son of the State 163 

the programme girl at the back, looking down at 
the scantily filled benches, said something so bitter 
and satirical to the policeman on duty, that one of 
her hairpins fell out, and tripped down the steps of 
the silent gallery, quite startling the few demure 
people. The patrons spoke in whispers ; when 
Bobbie commenced to whistle, with a view of 
cheering them, they said, w Hush ! ” and frowned 
at him. 

A few people strayed into the dress circle and 
into the stalls below ; the gentlemen declining to 
buy programmes, and the ladies pinning their tweed 
caps to their petticoats. Bobbie called out very 
loudly, u Orders ! ” and the constable up at the 
back interrupted his conversation with the satirical 
programme girl to whisper a reproof. An impor- 
tant-looking gentleman in white waistcoat came 
into a box, and surveyed through his opera glasses 
the gallery with contemptuous air ; Bobbie, chafing 
under this deliberate inspection, and disregarding 
the indignant looks of his neighbours, said distinctly 
and repeatedly, — 

w Take off that — white — weskit. Take off 
— that — white — weskit. Take off — that — 
white — ” 

Until the important gentleman had to retire de- 
feated behind the hangings of the box. Presently 


164 A Son of the State 

a small orchestra stumbled shyly in, with a con- 
ductor, who, having looked round and yawned 
openly at the house, led them through a sleepy 
waltz, that eventually induced Bobbie to kick 
loudly at the wooden front of the gallery. The 
curtain went up to a few bars of a comic song, 
and then Bobbie, hopeful of enjoyment, took off 
his frock-coat, and leaned forward expectantly. 

The bills described the play as a highly divert- 
ing original comedy fantasy, which was so long a 
title that it might well have included some of the 
elements of truth ; but, as it proved, did not. A 
smart young maid and a mild footman were dis- 
covered on the stage, and these, dusting at nothing 
in the elaborate breakfast-room with great energy, 
explained to each other that master had not been 
home the previous night, that mistress had gone to 
meet her aunt at Southampton, that this was a rum 
household, upon their word, and that they would 
be glad when they should have made enough 
money to take that little public-house on which 
they had set their hearts. Nevertheless, the maid 
boxed the ears of the mild footman soundly when 
he attempted to kiss her, at which moment one of 
the many doors in the room opened, and a wild- 
eyed young man appeared in evening dress, his 
necktie awry, and a hunted, affrighted look on his 


A Son of the State 165 

face. The two servants having taken his hoarsely 
whispered commands for breakfast and disappeared, 
the distraught-looking master, advancing to the 
footlights, told the nearly empty house the story of 
his trouble. Taking advantage, it seemed, of his 
wife’s absence, he had been to a fancy-dress ball 
the night before. There he had met an exceed- 
ingly handsome, opulent lady of South American 
extraction, who comported herself with great 
hauteur and coldness until a sudden alarm of 
u Fire ! ” took place ; on the instant he had clung 
to her from sheer nervousness, and she had dragged 
him safely from the place. Arrived outside, the 
lady, to his amazement, declared him to be her 
preserver, disclosed her Christian name as Evange- 
line ; swore never to leave him, but to confer upon 
him her hand in marriage, and when he attempted 
to fly, ran after him. The smart maid here inter- 
rupted, announcing, u A lady to see you, sir, and, 
please, mistress has arrived.” Entrance of a veiled 
lady, who, as the young master took refuge under 
a table, went across and through a doorway ; en- 
trance at that instant of young wife; ingenious 
but inexact explanation of his appearance by the 
husband ; sudden return of the strange lady, who, 
giving up the veil, cried, u My preserver ! ” the 
young husband cried, “ My Evangeline ! ” the 


1 66 A Son of the State 

young wife cried, u My aunt ! ” and — curtain on 
the first act. 

“Well,” said Bobbie, looking around, cc of all 
the dam silly plays — Elio ! Elio ! Who ’s 
pinched my oof? ” 

u What say, little boy ? ” 

‘‘Who’s took my money ? ” demanded the boy, 
his face white. He looked under the seat, but it 
had not fallen out of the pocket. “ Three or four 
bob I had, and every penny ’s gone.” 

He turned savagely to the lady next him. 
“ Have you got it ? ” 

So far from having Bobbie’s money, it appeared 
that the lady herself had lost a purse which she had 
carried, for the better convenience of the thought- 
ful young man outside with the travelling rug, in a 
back pocket which everybody could get at but her- 
self. Bobbie, sick and depressed at his loss, sat 
through the rest of the play trying to think out a 
plan of action, arriving just before eleven at a de- 
cision. The husband of the lady who had been 
robbed of her purse became so elated and trium- 
phant over the event (having, it seemed, always 
prophesied that this would happen, and being one 
not often successful in forecasts) that he gave Bob- 
bie sixpence, and Bobbie, after groaning in an un- 
earthly way at the close of the piece, went out and 


A Son of the State 167 

down the stairs into the bright, crowded, busy street, 
with this coin for his only monetary possession. 

Charing Cross Station was filled with theatre 
patrons who, judging from their pleased faces, had 
been more fortunate than Bobbie, and were now 
hastening to suburban homes. Ladies in gossamer 
cloaks flew about excitedly in search of their plat- 
form ; men in evening dress imperilled the catch- 
ing of their last train by making frantic rushes to 
the refreshment bar. Bobbie discovered that the 
last train to Paddock Wood had gone; discovered 
also the platform from which the Tonbridge train 
(Tonbridge being the next convenient station) 
started, and, taking advantage of a sudden rush at 
the barrier, slipped in between the people and was 
borne by them along the platform. There he 
found the train waiting ; found the guard’s van of 
the train ; found a corner in the van, and whilst 
the young guard collected the offertory from third- 
class passengers for whom he had found room in 
another class of carriage, Bobbie secreted himself 
behind a big square wicker basket. The young 
guard whistled ; the engine whistled, the doors 
banged to, the young guard jumped neatly into his 
brake, shouting good-night to the officials on the 
platform ; the train went out across the bridge, and 
presently, after one or two stops, away into the 


1 68 


A Son of the State 


dark country. The boy, crouching uncomfortably 
in ambuscade, consoled himself with anticipation. 
Once in the Duchess’s hotel comfort and he would 
not again separate. Perhaps they would put 
him in a uniform and make him General Com- 
manding of the Hall; he could see the hall lined 
with giant palms ; polite waiters at the far end 
guarding entrance to an elaborately furnished din- 
ing-room. There would be mirrors with (he felt 
sure of this) roses painted upon them. He could 
imagine all this; what he could not adequately 
picture was the elaborate hot breakfast which 
the Duchess would cause to be prepared for 
him. 

“ And now,” said the young guard, entering the 
van from his compartment, “ now for a struggle.” 

Bobbie, hiding low behind the square basket, 
trembled. He had some thought of giving him- 
self up and throwing himself upon the mercy of 
the guard, but he decided to wait. He could hear 
the rustling of pages as the young guard standing 
under the roof lamp commenced in a loud voice to 
recite : — 

A signalman sat in his signal-box 
A thinking of this and that, 

When the eight-ten mail went rushing by, 

Aad he started, for — ” 


A Son of the State 169 

The young guard made his way steadily through 
the verses ; then closing the book, tried to recite 
them without assistance, and partly succeeded, 
partly failed. 

“I shall be no more letter perfect by Thurs- 
day,” said the young guard, hopelessly, w than my 
old lamp.” 

At Tonbridge, when the train stopped — the 
hour being now near upon one — Bobbie, who 
had been dozing under the effects of the guard’s 
recital, warily bestirred himself. He waited until 
the guard had stepped out, and then, by rushing 
into the centre compartment of the van, he just 
managed to elude the porters who had thrown open 
the doors to clear out parcels. Bobbie jumped 
down from the off side of the brake on to the 
ballast, and intuitively made his way down the line. 
He had to reach the next station, Paddock Wood, 
and then the course would be clear ; in all he 
guessed there was about a ten-miles walk before 
him, and, by refraining from hurry, this ought to 
take him through the night. He walked carefully 
away from the station into the black night by the 
side of the lines, but not so carefully as to avoid 
an occasional stumble over iron rods connecting 
the points. By good chance he chose the line 
which would take him to Paddock Wood, and he 


170 A Son of the State 

made his way stolidly in the darkness along the 
straight rails, the cornet in his tail-pocket knock- 
ing at his ankles. Looking back, he saw the red 
and green lights of the junction that he had left ; 
looking forward, he saw nothing. Now and again 
he struck a match for the sake of company, and 
then for a moment he caught sight of the four 
shining rails and the tall gaunt telegraph ^posts ; 
resting at one or two of these posts, he had a talk 
with them, and listened to their ceaseless hum- 
ming. He was not afraid yet, because a spirit of 
adventure was in the air; he knew several boys at 
the Homes who would have shrieked with terror 
to find themselves alone like this on a black night 
in a lonely country with which they were not ac- 
quainted. The dead silence was just beginning to 
terrify him when far ahead he saw two small white 
eyes. They came nearer and nearer and larger 
and larger. The boy became nervous. He 
stopped and stumbled down into the dry ditch 
that ran along by the side of the railway ; the two 
white eyes came upon him with a hissing sound. 
Bobbie put his hands over his face and held his 
breath. A fierce tumultuous rush past ; a flash 
of light. Bobbie, venturing to remove his hands 
after a full minute, saw that the engine, out alone 
at a time of night when all respectable engines 


A Son of the State 


171 

should have been abed, was a distance off, its rear 
light showing redly. 

He felt shaken by this, but he made his way 
doggedly along the loose ballasted walk, through 
the dark, still night, trying not to think of what he 
was doing ; nevertheless, he still counted the gaunt 
telegraph posts, and told each of them its number. 
He had been walking, he thought, about an hour 
and a half, when he saw specks of coloured lights 
in the distance, and he knew that he was nearing a 
station. From thence he would have to branch 
off to the right. 

w I ’m getting on a fair treat,” he said cheer- 
fully. 

At Paddock Wood, noise and commotion that 
were grateful after the silence of the walk. Goods 
trains blundering about in sidings and excited men 
with lamps begging them to be reasonable, but the 
trucks of goods trains declining to listen to advice, 
and quarrelling and nudging and punching and 
shoving each other in a great state of ill-temper. 
Engines, on the earnest appeal of the men with 
lamps, hurried to restore order, and, the occasion 
being one demanding drastic remedy, half a dozen 
specially quarrelsome trucks were selected for pun- 
ishment, a masterful engine drew them out on a 
middle line, and when one of the men with lamps 


A Son of the State 


172 

had uncoupled them, the engine made a sudden 
rush and sent them all flying away into a distant 
siding where they could no longer interfere with 
the general order. Something of quiet ensuing 
upon this, the engine-drivers drank hot tea out of 
tin cans, and the shunters with lamps made a hasty 
meal of thick bread and thick bacon — a meal in- 
terrupted by the arrival of a long, overgrown goods 
train, which insisted upon ridding itself of a dozen 
trucks, and went after a while with an exultant 
shriek at having got the best of somebody. Bob- 
bie stood away from all this, watching it with 
great delight. He had begun to feel sleepy. 
This awakened him. 

He went out through the flat, silent, straggling 
village, and found, by climbing a finger-post and 
striking a match, the direction that he had to take 
for Brenchley. There was a vague touch of light- 
ness now in the starless sky ; passing by the quick- 
set hedge bordering a churchyard, he could see 
upright tombstones, dimly white, and the sight 
depressed the boy, for he knew that here were 
those whose memory to some was dear. The boy 
came to cross roads, and then found that his box 
of matches had disappeared through a hole in his 
frock-coat pocket. He sat down with his back 
against the post fixed in the grass triangle at the 


A Son of the State 


173 

centre of the roads ; before he had time to warn 
himself to keep awake, his eyes closed. He slept. 

“ Now, then ! ” said a voice. “ Time all boys 
was out of bed.” 

“ It ’s all right, mother,” said the boy, sleepily. 
“ I was just getting — ” 

He rubbed his eyes and looked around. Instead 
of the neat room with its red-counterpaned beds, 
and the mother of Collingwood Cottage shaking 
his shoulder — broad daylight and the open coun- 
try. The person who had awakened him was a 
uniformed man, with a straight-peaked cap which 
bore the figure of a horse. 

u Know where you are ? ” asked the uniformed 
man. 

“Just beginning to guess,” said the boy, 
blinking. 

“ Where you bound for? ” 

“ What ’s it got to do with you ? ” asked Bobbie, 
yawning. 

“ It ’s got all to do with me, as it happens. I ’m 
the constable in charge of this district.” 

“ Ho, yes ! ” said the boy, incredulously. 
“ Where’s your ’el met ? ” 

“ Ah ! ” remarked the constable, with tolerance. 
“ You ’re town-bred, I can see. What you got in 
your tail-pocket ? ” 


174 A Son of the State 

u Cornet.” 

“Whose?” 

u Mine,” said the boy, defiantly. w Whose did 
you think ? ” 

w One minute,” said the constable, sharply. 
u Have n’t done with you yet, my lad. If that ’s 
your cornet, and you ’ve come by it honest, you 
can no doubt play a tune on it.” 

“ Why should I play a tune to an amateur, ’alf- 
baked copper like you ? ” 

u I ’ve got you,” said the constable, gleefully. 
u I ’ve got you, my lad, on a piece of string. 
Wandering about with no vis’ble means of subsist- 
ence; also in possession of property that he is un- 
able to account for. I ’ll borrow a dog-cart, and 
take you off to Tonbridge.” 

w Give it a name, then,” said the boy, sulkily. 

w c Dreamt I dwelt in marble ’alls, ’ ” suggested 
the constable. 

Bobbie played this ; and the constable, much 
delighted, not only gave up all idea of the dog-cart 
and Tonbridge, but asked for another verse. 

u What time do you make it ? ” asked Bobbie, 
wiping his lips. 

He felt hungry ; the thought of hot coffee and 
hot rolls, and broiled ham and eggs, waiting for 
him at the Duchess’s magnificent hotel, made him 


A Son of the State 


175 

anxious. The constable lifted a huge watch from 
his trousers pocket. 

“Wants a quarter to six,” he said. 

ct ’Appen to know a place up at Brenchley called 
‘ The Happy Retreat ’ ? ” 

u Do I not.” 

u Rather fine hotel, is n’t it ? One of the most 
important places of its kind in the district, eh ? ” 

“ Of its kind,” said the constable, “yes.” 

“ Do an extr’ordinary business there, don’t 
they ? ” 

“ Most extr’ordinary.” 

“ Which road do I take to get to it quickest ? ” 
The constable pointed with his stick. “ I know 
the landlord and the landlady, and I want to get 
there for breakfast.” 

“ I could see you was well connected,” remarked 
the constable, pleasantly, “ by the fit of your coat. 
Give my regards to ’em, and tell ’em from me 
that ten o’clock ’s their time for closing, not ’alf- 
past.” 

“ Right,” said Bobbie. 

“ Give us another verse of c Dreamt I dwelt,’ ” 
begged the constable, “ ’fore you go.” 

The country was already rousing itself, being a 
country that went to bed early, and able, therefore, 
to rise betimes. Smoke puffed straight out of the 


176 A Son of the State 

chimneys stuck atop of the infrequent cottages ; a 
grateful scent of boiling tea came from the open 
doors across the gardens of flowers to the roadway. 
Conceited poultry strutted out to the gate and 
crowed ; birds up in the trees whistled and chir- 
ruped ceaselessly; rooks flew about near a row of 
tall poplars trying their voices, voices which seemed 
rather hoarse and out of practice. At one place 
by the side of the roadway where the green border 
was spacious, gipsies in their yellow-painted van 
were bestirring themselves, and scantily clothed, 
brown-skinned children affected to wash at the 
brook whilst their parents quarrelled loudly. The 
male parent broke off to call to Bobbie, asking him 
if he wanted a lift to London. Bobbie shook his 
head and hurried on up the hill. A postman went 
by on his tricycle, reading the postcards entrusted 
to him as he went ; at the diamond-patterned win- 
dows on the top floor of cottages, apple-cheeked, 
white-shouldered girls were doing their hair, hold- 
ing a rope of it between their teeth and plaiting 
the rest. A tramp who had been sleeping in a 
barn slouched along, picking straws from his de- 
plorable clothes and swearing softly to himself. 
Men in thick, earth-covered boots came out of 
their houses to go to their work in the fields, and 
small babies waved hands to them from the pro- 


A Son of the State 177 

tected doorways. Bobbie noticed, away from the 
road, a small dilapidated house with a vague, un- 
intelligible sign-post, and anxious to arrive at the 
Duchess’s hotel without error, he went to inquire. 
He pushed open the door ; stepped in on the floor 
of uneven bricks. A lazy smell of stale beer per- 
vaded the low-ceilinged passage ; to the right was 
a room with a dirty table, dirtier by reason of sticky 
rings made by pots of beer. At the end of the 
table, smooth spaces caused by practice of the 
game of shove-halfpenny. 

M Shop ! ” called Bobbie. 

No answer! He went through the passage. A 
beer-house evidently ; casks stood about, and un- 
washed earthenware mugs lined the counter. Dirt 
and untidiness everywhere. Upstairs he heard a 
voice crooning, and he listened anxiously, for the 
song seemed familiar. 

“You should see us in our landor when we ’re drivin’ in 
the Row, 

You should ’ear us chaff the dukes and belted earls. 

We’re daughters of nobility — ” 

“ The Duchess ! ” cried the boy. 

The song stopped. A window of the room 
above opened, and the Duchess’s voice could be 
heard upbraiding Mr. Leigh. 

w Fat lot of good you do pottering about in the 


12 


178 A Son of the State 

garden and pretendin’ you was born and bred in 
the country. Wish to goodness we was back in 
Ely Place again.” 

Mr. Leigh begged that the Duchess would hold 
her row and let him get on with his scarlet runners 
in peace. 

w Peace ? ” cried the Duchess, scornfully. 
w There ’s a jolly sight too much peace about this 
dead and alive ’ole. I ’m a woman used to a cer- 
tain amount of seeciety.” 

Mr. Leigh advised her to go downstairs and 
have a drop of beer and then get back to bed 
again. 

ct Beer and bed,” complained the Duchess, with 
great contempt. u That ’s about all there is in 
this place. I ’d rather be Bat Miller and — ” 

“ For goodness’ sake,” begged Mr. Leigh, u ’ush.” 

“ Sha’n’t ’ush,” declared the Duchess, preparing 
to slam the window. w I shall tell everybody why 
we ’re come ’ere and what you — ” 

Mr. Leigh, speaking for once with decision, 
said imperatively, “ Shut that winder and shut your 
mouth, or else I ’ll come and do both.” 

The Duchess obeyed, and Bobbie stood back 
as he heard her coming in slippered feet down the 
stairs. Few of us look our best at six o’clock in 
the morning, and the Duchess formed no excep- 


A Son of the State 179 

tion. It was not easy to glance at her without a 
shudder. 

The boy turned and hurried out. He ran 
swiftly, crying as he went, down the hill to the 
gipsies’ van. 


i8o 


A Son of the State 


CHAPTER X 

M YDDLETON WEST still lived in the 
rooms over a fancy-wool shop in Fetter 
Lane, which he had rented when he first came to 
London. At times he had thought of going into 
one of the Inns close by, and had inspected 
chambers there, but he found so many ghosts on 
every landing that, although a man of fair courage, 
he became affrighted. Over the fancy-wool shop 
in Fetter Lane, no shadows interfered. The 
Misses Langley kept his rooms carefully dusted, 
seeing that the panel photograph of an attractive 
young nurse, with a thoughtful face, never moved 
from its position of honour on the mantelpiece. 
Myddleton West was getting on in the world and 
earning agreeable cheques every month ; like many 
young men in this position, he found it difficult to 
increase his expenses without taking inordinate 
pains. Consequently he gave up attempts in this 
direction, and remained in Fetter Lane, writing 
early and late on any subject that the world offered, 
finding this the only way to keep his mind from 
the thoughtful young woman of the panel portrait. 


A Son of the State 


181 


Rarely she took brief holiday from the ward of 
which she was sister, and they met by appoint- 
ment at an aerated-bread shop, where, over choco- 
late, she knitted her pretty forehead and talked 
with the concentrated wisdom of at least three 
hundred young women, and on Myddleton West 
becoming urgent in his protestations of love, reprov- 
ing him with a quaint air of austerity that at once 
annoyed and delighted him. He found no argu- 
ment in favour of their marriage that she did not 
instantly defeat by a proud reference to the work 
which Fate had assigned to her. This was their 
only contentious subject ; once free of it they 
were on excellent terms, and West took her on 
from the tea-rooms to private views and to after- 
noon performances at the theatre, and to concerts, 
and was an enchanted man until the moment came 
for her to fly back in her gray silk cloak to the 
hospital. 

“ Hullo ! ” said Myddleton West. 

u Excuse me interrupting, sir, in your writing 
work.” 

“ Does n’t matter, Miss Langley.” 

“ As I often say to my sister,” persisted the thin 
lady at the doorway, “ no one can possibly write 
sense if they ’re to be continually broken in on — 
if I may use the expression — and — ” 


1 82 A Son of the State 

M Somebody called to see me?” asked West, 
patiently. 

“ And badgered out of their life,” concluded the 
lady. “ I ’m sure writing must be quite sufficient 
a tax on the brains without — ” 

w Miss Langley.” 

“ Sir to you.” 

ct Do I understand that some one has called to 
see me ? ” 

“ Mr. West,” confessed Miss Langley, with a 
burst of frankness, w some one has called to see 
you.” 

“Then,” said Myddleton West, definitely, 
“show them up.” 

“ It is n’t a them, sir, it ’s only a bit of a lad.” 

“ Very well, show him up.” 

West finished the sentence which he had 
commenced, and then, hearing a slipping footstep, 
swung round in his chair again. A boy in a long 
worn frock-coat, his bowler hat dented, stood at 
the doorway, white of face, his under lip not quite 
under control. 

“ Wha’ cheer ? ” said the boy, with an effort to 
appear at ease. “ How goes it with you ?” 

“ Wait a bit,” said Myddleton West, rising 
and standing in front of the fireplace. “‘Let me 
see now if I can remember you. Take off your 


A Son of the State 


183 

hat.” West dropped his pince-nez and peered 
across the room at the boy. “ I ’ll have three 
shots,” he said presently. “ Your name is Cum- 
berland.” 

u Not a bit like it.” 

w I met you — let me see — at an inquest in 
Hoxton some years ago ; I saw you later at the 
police station.” 

“You’re getting warmer. Now try the let- 
ter L.” 

“ And your name is Lincoln.” 

w Bit more to the left.” 

“ Lancaster ! ” 

w A bull’s-eye ! ” said the white-faced boy, ap- 
provingly. “ What ’ll you ’ave, cigar or a coker- 
nut ? ” He staggered a little and caught the back 
of the chair. 

w Hungry ? ” asked West, sharply. 

u You are a good guesser,” replied Bobbie, slip- 
ping to the chair. u I ’ave n’t had a thing to eat 
for — for a day and a half.” 

Myddleton West snatched a serviette from the 
drawer and spread it on the table in front of the 
boy. In another moment half a loaf of bread, a 
knuckle of ham, and cheese were on the serviette ; 
in much less than another moment Bobbie had 
commenced. 


184 A Son of the State 

cc Excuse me wolfin’ me food,” said the boy, with 
his mouth full. w Don’t suppose you know what 
it is to be famishing. I ’ve had rather rough times 
the last few days.” 

“ But you went to the Poor Law schools surely. 
Did you run away ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Bobbie, ruefully. w And I wish 
now I had n’t. Can I trouble you for a glass of 
water, sir ? ” 

“ Like some lemonade ? ” asked Myddleton 
West. 

“ So long as it ’s moist, sir, and there ’s plenty 
of it, I don’t mind what it is.” 

u And you ’re not getting on well as an inde- 
pendent man ? ” 

“ I ’m getting on,” said Bobbie, holding up the 
glass with a trembling hand, “ pretty awful.” He 
drank and smacked his lips appreciatively. u Ah ! ” 
he said, “ that ’s something like ! ” 

u Eat slowly.” 

“ Does it matter if I finish the bread, sir ? ” 

“ I shall be disappointed if you don’t.” 

cc Then, rather ’n cause you any annoyance,” 
said Bobbie, with reviving spirits, “ I ’ll undertake 
to clear it all up.” 

The meal finished, the boy asked for a cigarette, 
and, smoking this with great enjoyment, told Myd- 


A Son of the State 


185 

dleton West his adventures. The journey back 
from Brenchley had not been without drawbacks. 
At Orpington, Bobbie had interfered on behalf of 
the gipsy’s wife, with the perfectly natural result 
that she had turned on him indignantly, and both 
man and wife had, in turns, thrashed him, and had 
then started him adrift without his cornet. From 
Orpington to London he had walked. 

w And now,” said Bobbie, — u and now my diffi- 
culty is how to get back to the ’omes without 
looking a silly fool. What would you advise, 
sir ? ” 

w I should send a wire,” counselled Myddleton 
West, promptly. u Apologise for your absence, 
and say that you will be there in a few hours.” 

u It ’d pave the way a bit,” acknowledged the 

tc Here’s a form. Write the address of the 
Superintendent.” 

“ You must tell us what else to say.” 

The telegram drawn up on the dictation of the 
newspaper man seemed to Bobbie an admirable 
document ; one calculated to remove difficulties. 
Miss Langley being summoned, the boy was con- 
veyed to the kitchen downstairs, where, furnished 
with a cake of yellow soap, he remained under the 
tap for about ten minutes. This so much im- 


1 86 A Son of the State 


proved his appearance that when Myddleton West 
started with him to take train at Blackfriars, the 
two sisters forced upon his acceptance a triangular 
chunk of seed cake and a gay almanack with a 
portrait of the Princess of Wales, which Bobbie 
decided to take as a propitiatory offering to the 
mother of Collingwood Cottage. The telegram 
was despatched from an office in Fleet Street after 
Bobbie had read it through once more with in- 
creased satisfaction. 

u It ain’t too humble,” he said approvingly, 
tc and it ain’t too much the other way. Seems to 
me to hit the ’appy medium.” 

The fares from Temple Station to Bishopsgate 
and from Liverpool Street to the destination being 
ascertained from a railway time book, Bobbie 
agreed to accept from Myddleton West the 
precise amount and no more. He showed grati- 
tude with less reserve than he would have ex- 
hibited in the years before he entered the Homes, 
and, as he trotted beside the long-legged jour- 
nalist, he endeavoured politely to find a subject 
for conversation that would be pleasing to his 
companion. 

u How are you getting along with your young 
lady, sir ? ” he asked with interest. 

u No progress,” replied West. 


A Son of the State 187 

u You don’t go the right way to work,” said 
Bobbie, knowingly. u Women folk can be man- 
aged if you only exercise a bit of what I call 
ingenuity.” 

u I am always willing, Master Lancaster, to 
listen to the voice of experience.” 

u What you want to do,” said the young sage, 
changing step as they went down Arundel Street, 
“ is to be artful without lettin’ ’em see that you ’re 
artful. Is this my station ? ” 

w This is the Temple Station,” said West. 
11 Buy your ticket and be careful not to get out of 
the train before you get to Bishopsgate.” 

“ All right,” said Bobbie. u I ’m old enough to 
take care of meself.” 

“ Let me know that you get down safely.” 
u I shall be as right as rain now. I feel like 
twenty shillings in the pound since I saw you, 
sir.” 

“ Good-bye,” said Myddleton West, holding out 
his hand, u and good luck to you.” 

“ Good-bye,” said Bobbie, taking the hand awk- 
wardly, “ and good luck to you, sir. You know 
what I mean. And I’m — I’m very much 
obliged for all your — ” 

“There’s a train coming,” interrupted West. 
* c Down you go.” 


i88 


A Son of the State 


Bobbie, seated near the window of the impetu- 
ous underground train, held tightly the large card 
intended for the mother of Collingwood Cottage, 
and as he read advertisements in the compartment, 
congratulated himself on the change of circum- 
stances that had come to him within the last hour. 
He felt grateful for this, and decided that once 
safely back in the Homes and enjoying the sunshine 
of favour again, he would comport himself in a 
manner that would be gratifying to those who 
wished him well. The bitter days of the journey 
up from Brenchley had proved to him that the 
world was full of unforeseen and highly incon- 
venient rocks for a boy who had no one to pilot 
him ; he must wait until he became older before 
he courted the responsibility of taking charge of 
himself. In less than an hour he would be through 
the gates of the Homes, the delicate matter of his 
return would be all over, and the past few days 
could be sponged from memory. He had a defi- 
nite aim in view now, and nothing must be allowed 
to interfere with a speedy realisation of his desires, 
because, after all, a man’s life was a serious matter, 
and the making or the marring of it was work 
usually done in early youth. So far as concerned 
the underground railway there could be no com- 
plaint of delay, for the train seemed in a great 


A Son of the State 189 

hurry to get round the circle, stopping momentarily 
at one or two stations in a breathless, panting 
manner, as who should say, “ Oh, for goodness’ 
sake, don’t stop me, I ’m behindhand as it is, 
some other time I ’ll come round and stay, but 
just now really — ” 

Other passengers in the compartment went out 
at one of the stations, and Bobbie stood up at the 
open window as the train hurried through the 
black smoky tunnel. The train pulled up, gasp- 
ing, at another station, starting again immediately 
with a rough jerk that knocked the card out of 
Bobbie’s hand on to the platform. He jumped 
out, picked up the portrait, and attempted to re- 
enter the compartment. The porters shouted, — 
“ Stan’ away from the train there ! ” 
tc Stan’ away, can’t you, stan’ away ! ” 

“ Whoa ! Stop ! You ’ll break the door ! ” 
The train pulled up suddenly in a great state of 
annoyance. At the end of the platform, where 
the black tunnel began, the boy had been flung 
and lay a mere bundle on the platform. The 
carriage door closed ; the train went on into the 
tunnel ill-temperedly. The entire staff and a few 
stray passengers surrounded the senseless bundle 
on the platform. 

“ Here,” said the inspector to one of the porters, 


190 A Son of the State 

w you ’re a c first aid ’ man. See if you can tell 
what the damage is.” 

“ He ’s ’urt,” said the “ first aid,” with a pro- 
fessional air. 

“Yes, yes,” remarked the inspector, “we could 
have all guessed that.” 

“ It ’s a case for the ’ospital,” said the “ first 
aid” man, cautiously. “I don’t feel justified in 
trying my ’and at it.” 

“ Then,” said the inspector, “ fetch the ambu- 
lance cart, some one, for the poor little beggar, 
and let ’s get him there as quick as possible. 
We can’t have passengers dying about here.” 


A Son of the State 


191 


CHAPTER XI 

INTO a long broad ward with scarlet counter- 
-*• paned cots, headed against the wall on either 
side, and a shining floor between, Bobbie Lancaster, 
after being with ever so much tenderness bathed 
and combed in a small room, was conveyed, and 
there he relinquished for a few weeks his identity 
and became Number Twenty. The young doctor 
whom he saw when first brought into the hospital 
had whistled softly, and had murmured the words 
u compound fracture ; ” the damaged boy felt glad 
that the injury was of some importance and likely 
to attract attention. He woke the morning fol- 
lowing his arrival on tea being brought round at 
five o’clock, to find that his arm, accurately bound 
up with two small boards, gave him less pain than 
he had expected. There was an acceptable scent 
of cleanliness in the ward, helped sternly by the 
universal scent of carbolic, receiving more joyful 
volunteer assistance from the bowl of heliotrope on 
the Sister’s table at the centre. Turning his head, 
Bobbie saw a comfortable fire blazing away not far 


A Son of the State 


192 

from him ; a fire that made all polished things re- 
flect its flames ; saw, too, that some of his neigh- 
bours were unable to rise, and had to be fed by 
the white-aproned nurses going softly to each cot. 
One or two of the numbers had arched protectors 
under the bed-clothes to keep the sheets from 
touching their small bodies; Number Twenty-one 
had a head so fully bandaged that there was not 
much of his face to be seen but the eyes and the 
tip of a nose; wherefore he was called by the 
others ct Fifth of November.” Bobbie’s other 
immediate neighbour, Number Nineteen, a white- 
faced boy, lost no time in bragging to the new- 
comer that he possessed hips about as bad as hips 
could manage to be. 

“Well, Twenty,” said the nurse to Bobbie, 
cheerfully. u You going to stay at our hotel for a 
few weeks ? ” The nurse was a pleasing round- 
faced young woman, who signalled the approach 
of an ironical remark by winking; in the absence 
of this intimation the ward understood Nurse 
Crowther to be serious. w All the nobility come 
here,” said Nurse Crowther, deflecting her eyelid, 
“ seem to have given up Homburg and Wiesbaden 
and places, and to have made up their mind to 
come to Margaret Ward. Here ’s Lord Bailey, 
otherwise known as Nineteen, for instance.” The 


A Son of the State 193 

white-faced boy laughed at this personal allusion. 
“He’s given up everything,” declared Nurse 
Crowther. “ Dances, receptions, partridge shoot- 
ing, and I don’t know what all, just in order that 
he should come and spend a few months here with 
us. Is n’t that right, Nineteen ? ” 

“ Gawspel ! ” affirmed little Nineteen, in a 
whisper. 

“ It must affect some of the other fashionable 
resorts,” said Nurse Crowther, pursuing the face- 
tious vein. u I ’m told that there ’s nobody at 
Trouville this year, and as for Switzerland — ” 

“ All the time you ’re trying to be funny,” com- 
plained Master Lancaster, “ you ’re letting my 
milk get cold. Why don’t you attend to bisness 
first ? ” 

“ Hope you ’re not going to be a tiresome boy,” 
said the nurse. 

“Wait and see.” 

“ I must bring the Sister to see you presently. 
You ’ve got a nice open face.” 

“ If I ’ve got an open face I can keep me mouth 
shut,” said Twenty, drinking his milk. “That’s 
more than some of you can.” 

“ Arm pretty comfortable this morning ? ” asked 
the nurse good-temperedly, as she smoothed the 
scarlet counterpane. “ Had a good night’s rest ? 

13 


194 A Son of the State 

Weren’t disturbed by the noise of the traffic, were 
you ? What — ” 

c< One at a time, one at a time,” said Twenty, 
crossly. u I can’t answer forty thousand blooming 
questions at once.” 

u Sit back now, there ’s a dear, and keep as 
quiet as you can till the doctors come round.” 

u What time do they put in an appearance ? ” 

“That, dear Duke,” said the nurse, winking, 
“entirely depends upon you. You have but to 
say the word.” 

“ If there ’s one thing I can’t stand more ’n an- 
other,” said the boy, settling himself down cau- 
tiously, “ it is gels trying to be comic.” 

The young doctor with three or four men still 
younger, and all of them endeavouring to look an 
incalculable age, paid their visit to Margaret Ward 
in due course, and Bobbie felt indignant because, 
whereas they stayed at the end of his bed but a couple 
of minutes writing some casual marks on the blue 
form pinned on the board above his head, at the 
next bed they ordered a screen to be placed, and 
behind this they remained in consultation over the 
white-faced little Nineteen for quite a long time. 
When they had gone, Bobbie salved his jealousy 
by telling Nineteen at once that Nineteen need not 
think himself everybody, giving a long list of im- 


A Son of the State 


*95 

aginary complaints that he (Bobbie) had in the 
past suffered from, ranging in character from a 
wart on the knuckles to complete paralysis of the 
right side. This seemed to restrain any idea that 
Nineteen might have had of exhibiting conceit, and 
that little chap contented himself by offering to bet 
two to one in halfpennies that he would be the next 
in the Margaret Ward to go. Bobbie forced the 
odds to three to one, and then closed with the wager. 

“ I sha’n’t be sorry,” said white-faced Nine- 
teen, “ ’pon me word I sha’n’t. It can’t be much 
worse than this.” 

“ You be careful how you talk,” advised Bobbie. 
cc A man that ’s getting near to kicking the bucket 
can’t be too cautious of what he says.” 

“ Likely as not,” said Nineteen, u it ’ll be a 
jolly sight better than this.” 
u How can you tell ? ” 

M Anyway,” said Nineteen, a it ’ll be a rare old 
lark to watch and see what ’appens. I ’eard a 
man arguin’ once in Victoria Park that those what 
put up with a lot in this world, got it all their own 
way in the next, and vicer verser.” 
cc How did he get to know ? ” 
u Of course,” admitted Nineteen, u it ’s all 
speculation.” Little Nineteen yawned. I feel 
bit tired.” 


196 A Son of the State 

w You take jolly good care what you ’re about, 
old man,” recommended Bobbie. “You’ll look 
jolly silly if you find yourself all at once in ’ell.” 

“ Even that ’d be interesting.” 

“ And hot,” said Bobbie. 

“I should n’t mind chancing it a bit,” said 
Nineteen, “ only there ’s the old woman. She 
worries about me a good deal, she does.” 

“ Your mother ? ” 

“ She ’d be upset if she thought I had n’t gone 
to ’Eaven.” Nineteen gave the skeleton of a 
laugh. “You know what Primitive Methodists 
are,” he added excusingly. 

“Tell you what,” said Bobbie. “If anything 
’appens to you and you pop off the hooks, I ’ll tell 
her that you were going there all right, and I ’ll 
make up something about angels, and say they 
was your last words. See ! ” 

“ I shall take it very kind of you,” said little 
Nineteen, thankfully. 

“You leave it me. And touchin’ that bet. 
Just occurs to me. If you lose you may n’t be 
able to pay.” 

“ If I win I sha’n’t be able to dror it off of 
you.” 

“ Never mind,” said Bobbie, “ we ’ll see what 
’appens.” 


A Son of the State 


1 97 

cc I ’ve never stole nothin’, ” urged Nineteen, 
after a pause. 

u You ’re all right,” with some awkwardness. 

u I ’ve never had a copper even speak to me.” 

“You’re as right as ninepence. There’s lots 
of cheps worse than you.” 

“ I ’ve got to ’ave port wine and jellies,” re- 
marked Nineteen, after a pause. 

“Some of you get all the luck,” said Bobbie. 
At which Nineteen dozed off contentedly. 

When, later in the morning, the tall young 
Sister came up to Bobbie’s cot and introduced her- 
self, he permitted her to talk for some time, and 
watched her quiet, attractive face. Dressed in 
her plain gown, she looked, the boy thought, per- 
fect, and he touched the white hand that rested on 
the coverlet of his bed with shy respect. Sister 
Margaret talked of his accident ; chatted about 
the other numbers of the ward. Leaving him for 
a moment to give white-faced Nineteen a kiss, 
she was called back by Bobbie. 

“ I say, miss.” 

“Well, Twenty.” 

“ Something to ask you. Bend down.” 

As the tall young woman obeyed, Bobbie put 
one hand to his mouth in order that his confiden- 
tial inquiry might not be heard by the other boys. 


198 A Son of the State 

w How ’s your young man ? ” he whispered. 

Sister Margaret flushed and stood upright. 

“ What do you mean, Twenty ? ” she answered 
severely. “ You must understand that here we 
don’t allow boys to be impudent.” 

“ It ’s all right, miss,” whispered Bobbie. 
“ Don’t fly all to pieces. I ’m not chaffing of you. 
I mean Mr. West — Mr. Myddleton West.” 

u You know Mr. West ? ” she said, bending 
down again. 

“ Rather ! ” said the boy. “ Saw your photo- 
graph in his place yesterday. Only one in the 
room.” 

She sat down beside the bed, her eyes taking a 
light of interest. Bobbie, looking round the ward 
to see that this special honour was being noted, 
observed that the numbers on the opposite side 
scowled jealously at him. 

“ I ’ve known him off and on,”* said Bobbie, 
“ these two or three years. Good sort he is.” 

“Mr. West is indeed a very good fellow,” said 
the Sister, earnestly. “ But you — you are wrong, 
Twenty, in assuming that we are engaged. Noth- 
ing, in point of fact, is further from the truth. 
We are very good friends, and that is all.” 

“You don’t kid me,” said the boy, knowingly. 

“ Twenty ! I shall be extremely annoyed if. 


A Son of the State 


*99 


whilst you are in the ward, you couple my name 
with Mr. West’s.” 

u Should n’t think of doing so, Sister,” he said 
seriously. “ If there ’s one thing I can do better 
than another it is keeping a secret. Once I make 
up my mind to shut my mouth, wild ’orses would n’t 
open it.” 

“ I like him,” she went on (it appeared that the 
Sister was not averse to speaking of Myddleton 
West), u I like him very much, but it is possible 
to like a person, Twenty, without going so far as 
to become engaged.” 

u Depends ! ” 

u There are several courses open nowadays to 
women,” she said half to herself, and with some- 
thing of enthusiasm. u It is no longer marriage 
or nothing for them. There are certain duties in 
the world — public duties — that a woman can 
take upon herself, and marriage would only inter- 
fere with their performance. The old idea of 
woman’s place in the world was, to my mind, not 
quite decent. We are getting away from all that, 
and we are coming to see that the possibilities — ” 

u Don’t he mind your taking up with this non- 
sense ? ” asked Bobbie. 

The boy’s interruption stopped the argumenta- 
tive young woman. She laughed brightly at find- 


200 


A Son of the State 


ing herself lecturing to Twenty on this subject, 
and, smoothing his pillow before she went, asked 
him with a smile whether he did not agree with 
her. 

w I call it a silly ass of an idea,” he said frankly. 

This was not the last talk that he had with the 
tall young Sister of the ward, and for some days in 
that week the ward inclined to mutiny on account 
of the disproportionate time that she gave to 
Twenty and to little Nineteen. It almost seemed 
that Nineteen showed signs of improvement under 
the combined influence of her visits and the com- 
panionship of Bobbie his neighbour ; Bobbie’s 
predecessor had been a gloomy boy, with his own 
views in regard to details of eternal torments, and 
Bobbie’s optimism cheered the white-faced boy so 
much that when his tearful mother came to see 
him, being by special permission admitted at any 
time, she found herself debating with him on his 
walk in life when he should grow up, and dis- 
cussing the relative advantages of the position of 
engine-driver as compared with that of policeman. 
Nineteen introducing his neighbour, Nineteen’s 
mother gave Bobbie two oranges and an illumi- 
nated card bearing minatory texts. Bobbie enjoyed 
the oranges. 

“ I think he ’s better, nurse,” said Nineteen’s 


A Son of the State 


201 


mother, respectfully. “ Seems to have got more 
colour, and — ” 

“ It ’s my belief, 1 ” answered Nurse Crovvther, at 
the foot of the bed, “ that there ’s nothing what- 
ever the matter with his lordship. I believe it ’s 
all his nonsense. I tell him that he ’ll have to 
take me to the theatre some evening, soon as ever 
he gives up playing this game of lying in bed.” 

Little Nineteen smiled faintly. The good- 
humoured nurse went and placed her cool hand 
on his forehead. 

ct I don’t hold with theatres, nurse,” said Nine- 
teen’s mother, precisely. “To my mind chapel is 
a great deal better than all these devil’s play-houses.” 

“ Dam sight duller,” remarked Bobbie. 

“Twenty ! I ’m surprised.” 

“Well, nurse,” said Bobbie, excusingly, “ she 
said c devil.’ ” 

“Anyway,” remarked Nurse Crowther, “ we ’re 
going to dodge off somewhere, the very first day 
he gets well, are n’t we, Nineteen ? ” 

Happy nod of acquiescence from the tired 
boy. 

“ And we sha’n’t say anything to anybody else 
about it, shall we, Nineteen ? ” 

Not a word, signalled poor Nineteen. 

“ And, goodness ! how people will stare when 


202 


A Son of the State 


they see us on the steamer together off to 
Rosherville.” 

“ I ’ll come with you,” interposed Bobbie from 
the next bed. 

“Not likely,” declared Nurse Crowther, with 
another wink. “Two’s company, three’s a 
crowd. Aye, Nineteen ? ” 

“ Most decidedly,” intimated the delighted boy. 

“ And now it ’s time for your little pick-me-up. 
Say good-bye to your mother.” 

Nineteen’s mother, having said good-bye, drew 
the nurse aside, whispering a question, and Bobbie 
heard the answer, “ No hope ! ” This startled 
Bobbie, and made him think ; presently he worked 
so hard in the endeavour to cheer little Nineteen 
that Sister Margaret had to command silence, be- 
cause Nineteen required rest. That night, when 
the ward was silent, Bobbie watched him as he lay 
with eyes closed, his breathing short and irregular, 
and for almost the first time in his life, Bobbie 
thought seriously of the desirability — taking every- 
thing into consideration — of becoming religious. 

He could see the red fire, and watching it he 
considered this entirely new suggestion. He lifted 
the bed-clothes to shield himself from the sight of 
the distant fireplace, for he was becoming heated. 
It required much determination to put gloomy 


A Son of the State 


203 


thoughts from him ; when he had partly succeeded 
in doing this he looked again at the fire, and then 
he knew that there were tears in his eyes, because 
the light of the fire became starry and confused in 
appearance. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes. It 
seemed that he could see another fire, a small one, 
near to the grate, and this he assumed to be an 
optical delusion until it crept along a black rug 
and commenced to blaze, whereupon he slipped 
cautiously out of bed, his bandaged arm paining, 
despite his care, and called for the nurse. An an- 
swer did not come immediately, and the boy hur- 
ried barefooted, in his scarlet gown only, across 
the floor to the burning rug. Afterwards he re- 
membered rolling it up awkwardly with one hand 
and stamping upon it ; the night nurse hurrying up 
with a scream, forty heads up in forty cots — it 
was then for the first and last time in his life that 
Bobbie fainted. 

“We shall have to send you to a home, 
Twenty.” Sister Margaret looked on a day or 
two later, whilst Nurse Crowther rebound the lint 
and wool. “ A convalescent home down by the 
seaside, upon a hill, where you can watch the 
shipping, and — ” 

u That ’ll suit me down to the ground, Sister.” 

“ I believe he got burnt purposely, Sister,” de- 


204 


A Son of the State 


dared Nurse Crowther, u so that he should have a 
nice long holiday. Wish to goodness I was half 
as artful as Twenty is.” 

u I ’m sure,” said Sister Margaret, sedately, 
u that Twenty is a very brave boy. If it had n’t 
been for his courage there might have been quite 
a serious fire.” 

Twenty blushed. 

“Twenty has qualities,” went on the tall Sister, 
ct that if properly directed — I should bring it 
twice over the knee, nurse, I think — will make 
him a fine young fellow, and a credit to his coun- 
try.” Sister Margaret had raised her voice in 
order that her words might be heard. The ward 
listened alertly; little Nineteen, whose eyelids 
were now very tired, moving his head in order to 
hear. w Wrongly directed,” she said, lowering her 
voice, ct they will only make him dangerous.” 

u I should rather like to grow up and — and be 
brave,” said little Nineteen, from the next bed. 

u So you shall,” declared Nurse Crowther, 
cheerily, M so you shall, Nineteen. If you don’t 
get the Victoria Cross some day, Nineteen, never 
believe me again.” Little Nineteen, consoled, 
closed his eyes wearily. u As for you, Marquis,” 
went on Nurse Crowther, pinning the end of the 
roll with which Bobbie’s limb had been enveloped, 


A Son of the State 


205 

cc I believe that what Sister says is perfectly true. 
If you can only keep on the main line, you ’ll make 
a capital journey. Only don’t get branching 
off.” 

u If I don’t get along in the world,” said Bob- 
bie, with a touch of his old impudence, “ it won’t 
be for the want of telling.” 

“ You ought to be grateful, my Lord Bishop,” 
said Nurse Crowther, adjusting the bed-clothes 
carefully, “ that you ’ve got so many friends.” 

“ Me ! ” echoed the boy. “ Why, I ain’t got a 
friend in the world.” 

u Twenty !” said Sister Margaret, reprovingly. 
“ And Mr. West is coming all the way down here 
next visiting day specially to see you.” 
w To see me ? ” 

“Yes,” said Sister Margaret, a little unsteadily, 
u to see you.” 

w Reckon,” said the boy, looking up, “ he ’s 
going to kill two birds with one stone. What 
he ’s really coming for is to see — ” 
u Twenty,” she commanded, “ silence ! ” 
u Is to-morrow visiting day ? ” asked the thin 
voice of Nineteen, sleepily. 

“To-morrow,” replied Nurse Crowther. “ And 
mind you ’re nice and bright, Saucy Face, by three 
o’clock against your mother comes.” 


206 


A Son of the State 


In the ward the next day occurred the usual ex- 
citement that preceded an afternoon for visitors. 
Little Nineteen alone uninterested ; it almost 
seemed that he had ceased to take concern in 
worldly matters such as the arrival of apples and 
other contraband, and to be content, when not 
asleep, with staring very hard at the ceiling. Bob- 
bie himself, cheered by receipt of a kindly note 
from Collingwood Cottage, gave his best endeav- 
ours to the task of enlivening Nineteen (“ Sop me 
goodness,” said Bobbie, reproachfully, to himself, 
w if I ain’t getting fond of the little beggar ”), but 
with no result. Elsewhere in the ward movement 
and expectation; Sister Margaret and the nurses 
had trouble to preserve sanity amongst the boy 
patients. Thirty-five declared privately his opin- 
ion that all the clocks were slow ; that someone 
had put them back on purpose ; Thirty-five added 
darkly that if he could find the person responsible 
for the deed he would make it a County Court job. 
Nevertheless, the hour presently struck, and two 
minutes afterwards came the sound of many foot- 
steps in the passage ; the swing doors opened, and 
the visitors marched in under the narrow inspection 
of every scarlet-gowned occupant of every scarlet- 
counterpaned bed. There were sounds of kissing 
in different parts of the ward. Bobbie ordered 


A Son of the State 


207 

Nineteen to wake up and look sharp about it, but 
little Nineteen did not answer. 

“ If you please, miss, is there a boy named 
Robert Lancaster in this ward ? ” 

Bobbie’s head came up. Nurse Crowther 
pointed him out to a young girl, dressed quietly, 
her hair rolled up into a neat bunch, and wearing 
brown gloves fiercely new. She carried a small 
paper bag, and looked casually at her silver watch 
as she advanced to the bedside of Twenty. 

u What ho ! ” said Bobbie, not unkindly. 
u Who sent for you ? ” 

w Mother told me I might come,” said Miss 
Trixie Bell, breathlessly, “and mother sent this 
bunch of the best grapes she could get in Spital- 
fields Market, and mother said I was to give you 
her kind regards, and tell you to get well as soon 
as you could.” 

“ Left to meself,” said Bobbie, “ I should never 
’ave thought of that. They ain’t so dusty them 
grapes, though, are they ? ” he added admiringly. 

M I should rather think not,” said Trixie. 
“They cost money. How’s your arm? You 
look nice and neat in your scarlet — ” Miss Bell 
checked herself and bit her lips. “I nearly said 
bed-gown,” she remarked apologetically, taking 
out her watch again. 


208 


A Son of the State 


“You’ve altered,” said Bobbie, “since you 
came to see me last.” 

“ Mother says I ’m going to grow up tall.” 

“ Take care you don’t grow up silly the same 
time. Where ’d you get your watch from ? ” 

“ Fancy your noticing,” said Trixie Bell, de- 
lightedly. “ That ’s new to-day. Mother gave it 
me because it was my birthday, and I ’d helped 
nicely with the shop.” 

“ Many ’appy returns,” he said gruffly. 

“ Thank you, Bobbie.” 

“ Ever see anything of them Drysdale Street 
bounders? I mean Nose and Libbis and — ” 

“ I never take no notice of nobody,” said the 
young lady, precisely. “ Mother says it ’s best to 
ignore them altogether. Mother says it’s unwise 
even to pass the time of day. So when they call 
out after me, I simply walk on as though I had n’t 
’eard.” 

“ That ’s right,” said Bobbie, approvingly. 

“Your neighbour’s asleep.” 

“ Little beggar ’s always at it. He ’ll wake up 
directly when his mother comes.” 

A scent of flowers and a familiar deep voice. 
Trixie, who had been resting one elbow on the 
pillow, drew back, as Myddleton West came up. 

“ Well, young man,” said Myddleton West, 


A Son of the State 


209 

cheerily, cc how are we getting on ? Sister Mar- 
garet has been telling me of your fire-brigade 
exploit.” 

“ That was nothing.” 

u It might have been, apparently, if you had not 
acted as you did. This a friend of yours ? ” Miss 
Bell stood up and bowed. “ Why, I’ve met you 
two together before. On a tram going Shoreditch 
way, on the night when — ” 

“ Let bygones be bygones,” said Bobbie, uneasily. 
“ That was ages ago.” 

“ When you were mere boy and girl ? ” 

w Jesso ! ” 

u Sister Margaret thinks of getting you away to 
a convalescent home,” said Myddleton West. 

“ You seem to have had a rare old chat with her,” 
said the boy, pointedly. u Give her them flowers, 
instead of leaving them here. They ’ll please her.” 

“Excuse me,” interrupted Trixie, u don’t you 
think you ought to call the nurse for this little chap 
in the next bed ? I ’ve just touched his hand, and 
somehow — ” 

Nurse Crowther and another nurse come quickly 
to the bed of Nineteen. Nurse Crowther flies for 
the screen ; when this is fixed around the bed, a 
doctor is sent for. The doctor hurries in, goes 
away directly, but the screen remains. Nineteen’s 
14 


210 


A Son of the State 


mother, arriving tardily with oranges for her boy, 
is admitted behind the screen, and there comes 
presently the sound of weeping. 

“ Ain’t he woke up, nurse ? ” asks Bobbie, 
anxiously. 

“Nearly time for visitors to go,” says Nurse 
Crowther. “You’ll soon have to say good-bye. 
Nice bright day outside, they tell me.” 

“Ain’t he woke up yet, Nurse ? ” 

“ Who, your Highness ? ” 

“ Why, Nineteen.” 

For once Nurse Crowther’s wink declines to 
respond to her summons. Her lips move, and she 
puts her hand up to control them. 

“ My chick,” she says, “ Nineteen won’t wake 
again in this world.” 

The bed-clothes go quickly over Bobbie’s head, 
and remain there for some few minutes. When 
Sister Margaret’s voice is heard warning visitors 
of the approach of half-past four, his head re- 
appears rather shamefacedly. 

“ Trixie.” 

“ Yes, Bobbie.” 

“ Anybody looking ? ” 

“ Not a soul.” 

“Well,” whispers Bobbie, “ if you like to bend 
down, you can give me a kiss.” 


A Son of the State 


21 1 


Miss Bell takes sedate advantage of this offer, 
and, readjusting her hat when she has done so, 
finds her bright brown gloves. 

u Thank you, Bobbie,” says Miss Bell. Then 
she adds very softly, u Dear.” 

w Not so much of the c dear,’ ” orders Bobbie. 


212 


A Son of the State 


CHAPTER XII 

' | ^HE seaside institution to which Bobbie, with 
an attention that could not have been 
exceeded if he had been paying money recklessly 
to everybody around him, found himself conveyed, 
exactly fitted his desires. The cool, calm order 
of the place, the quiet service of serene women 
attendants in their dark gowns and white aprons, 
the well-chosen table, the pure white linen in 
spotless bedrooms — all these things, that might 
have irritated the boy had he been perfectly well, 
were, in his convalescent state, precisely what he 
required. The days had become warmer, and it 
was possible to spend a good deal of time on the 
wooden balconies of the Swiss-like building. From 
these balconies he could look away across the 
green waters, with their patches of dark purple ; 
could watch the Channel steamer puffing its way 
across, presently to enter the harbour below. The 
harbour itself never ceased to delight him. There 
it was that steamers rested in a dignified manner 
when off duty, submitting themselves to an ener- 
getic washing of decks and rubbing of brasswork ; 


A Son of the State 


213 


near them, brown-sailed fishing-vessels for ever 
going out to sea or coming back from sea, manned 
by limited crews, who shouted in the dialect of 
the Kentish coast, and whose aim in life it ap- 
peared to be not so much to do work themselves 
as to tell others to do it. The scent of the sea 
came up to the balconies, and most of the boys in 
varying stages of repair who inhaled it, declared 
their intention, once they had regained possession 
of that health which for the moment eluded them, 
of becoming admirals in her Majesty’s navy. 
Bobbie Lancaster on this subject said nothing, 
which was his way when engaged in making up 
his mind. * 

Stages marked the progress of improvement. 
One of the earliest came on permission being 
granted to walk about the green-grassed lawn 
around the Home, with its summer-houses, where, 
over the fence in the evenings, you could observe 
sons of mariners wooing, with economic speech, 
daughters of other mariners, and kissing them, 
under the impression that no one but a Martello 
tower looked on. 

Here Bobbie himself fell in love. 

The breezy curate attached to a church close 
by, who recognised Bobbie as a former acquaint- 
ance at a London cemetery and who was for ever 


214 


A Son of the State 


flying in and out of the Home with no hat, and 
an appearance of having another engagement of a 
highly urgent character for which he was a little 
late, hurried in one day to look round the sitting- 
room where the guests played dominoes, and 
found Bobbie well enough to go out ; so well, 
indeed, that he had arranged to go down the long 
road towards the white cliffs in company with an 
adult patient, who, being in ordinary times a 
stoker on a London Bridge and Greenwich steam- 
boat, posed as authority on all matters concerning 
the navy, and arbitrator in disputes concerning 
that branch of the service. Breezy Curate, in 
less than no time at all, found other work for the 
naval authority, gained the necessary permission 
from the Lady Superintendent, and was away with 
Bobbie, walking so fast that he had to run back 
now and then in the manner of a frisky terrier, in 
order that Bobbie should keep up with him. Ere 
the boy had time or breath to ask questions, they 
arrived at the door of a round squat Martello 
tower (called by elderly acquaintances Billy Pitt’s 
Mansion), where he was lugged in and introduced 
to the coastguardsman who lived there ; introduced 
also to coastguardsman’s immense niece, who 
appeared to Bobbie, panting on a chair, like a 
very large angel, only better dressed and much 


A Son of the State 215 

better looking, and who, it appeared, came in 
daily to make tidy her uncle’s tower. Breezy 
Curate, before hastening off for a fly along the 
cliffs, made the boy a friend of Coastguard and 
Coastguard’s niece, and promised to call back for 
him in an hour. 

w Reckon you ’ve been ’avin’ games, young 
man, ain’t you ? ” said Coastguard, sternly. “ What 
made you fall down and step on yerself in that 
manner for, eh ? ” 

Bobbie explained. When he described the fire 
in Margaret Ward, the large angel, making tea 
and toasting bread that filled the small room with 
most appetizing odours, looked up. 

ct Bravo,” said the young woman. w Come 
here and I ’ll give ye a kiss for that.” 

Bobbie hesitated. 

u Go on, lad,” counselled her uncle ; u there ’s 
them that would n’t want to be asked twice to do 
that, jigger me if they would.” 

“ Uncle ! ” said the large angel, reprovingly. 
u Do give over.” 

Bobbie considered it proof of the young woman’s 
angelic nature that, seeing he did not stir, she 
came to him, toasting-fork in hand, gave him a 
hug, and then went back to her work at the fire. 
Coastguard, enormously amused at this, slapped 


2l6 


A Son of the State 


his knee, saying that, seeing kisses were cheap, 
jigger him if he wouldn’t have one, and a kiss he 
therefore took, and the three sat down to tea in 
great good-humour. By an effort, Bobbie deter- 
mined to retain the correct behaviour that he had 
learnt in the Cottage Homes and at Margaret 
Ward; Coastguard, delighted with the boy’s re- 
spectful manner, declared that an earl could not 
comport himself better. From this, Coastguard 
passed, by easy transition, to a review of the Royal 
Family of his country, a review that became a 
glowing eulogy. The angel, too, preparing to cut 
cake, expressed so much affection for the younger 
members of the family, portraits of whom were 
on the walls of the little room of the Martello 
tower, that the boy found himself impressed, and 
convinced by views in regard to Royalty that 
were novel to him. 

w Old Lady,” declared Coastguard, blowing at 
his tea, u will have the best. She don’t mind what 
she pays for her navy, but she will ’ave it good.” 

“ I see what you mean,” said Bobbie. 

“ Do you like the outside or the inside ? ” asked 
the angel at the cake. 

cc Both, miss,” said Bobbie. 
u None of your ne’er-do-wells for her,” went 
on Coastguard. u None of your thieving — ” 


A Son of the State 217 

“ You ’ve dropped your knife on the floor, little 
boy,” said the angel. u That ’s a sign you ’re not 
careful.” 

“ c None of your bad characters, none of your 
criminals for my navy,’ she ses, c if you please.’ 
And jigger me,” said Coastguard, explosively, 
“jigger me if the old Lady ain’t right.” 

“You ought to call her c Her Majesty,’ uncle. 
You’d look silly if she happened to be listening.” 

“ Go’ bless my soul,” said Coastguard, with 
enthusiasm, “ she would n’t mind it from me. 
She knows my way of talking.” 

“ And,” stammered Bobbie, “ is it — is it true 
then that you can’t get into the navy if you ’ve 
done anything wrong ? ” 

“ Devil a bit,” answered Coastguard. “ Old 
Lady ’d think it was a piece of impudence to try 
it on. Looey, my gell, whilst I ’m havin’ my 
pipe jest give us a toon on the old harmonium.” 

The large niece, seated at the harmonium, 
seemed, to the thoughtful Bobbie, more like an 
angel than ever ; the music she produced helped 
to distract his troubled thoughts. Presently, how- 
ever, the angel found a Moody and Sankey book, 
and, having propped it on the ledge before her, 
picked out on the keys, as with her foot she moved 
the pedals, a hymn that gave the boy memories. 


2l8 


A Son of the State 


The Coastguard rolled his head to the rhythm; 
now and again taking his pipe from his mouth to 
growl a note or two and thus give his niece 
encouragement. 

“ Dare to be a Daniel, 

Dare to stand alone. 

Dare to — ” 

Bobbie sat forward in his chair, his eyes fixed 
on the broad bending back of the young lady at 
the harmonium, and thought of Ely Place. What 
a long way off Ely Place seemed now ; Bat Miller, 
and Mrs. Bat Miller, and the Fright ; all these 
were misty figures that for years had visited his 
memory infrequently. Bat Miller’s time would 
be up in a year or two. Bobbie shivered to think 
what he should do were Bat Miller’s face to ap- 
pear suddenly at the window. For a few mo- 
ments he dared not glance at the window, fearful 
that this impossible event might happen ; when at 
the end of the hymn he nerved himself to look in 
that direction, he felt almost surprised to find no 
face peering in. 

“ Gi’ us,” said the Coastguard, cheerfully, u gi’ 
us ‘’Old the Fort.’ That’s the one I’m gone 
on. There ’s a swing about c ’Old the Fort.’ ” 

It seemed to the boy that already he had lived 
two lives ; that the first had been broken off short 


A Son of the State 219 

on the day he turned out of Worship Street Police 
Court. He could not help feeling a vague admi- 
ration for that first boy because the first boy had 
been a fine young dare-devil, never trammelled by 
rules of behaviour ; at the same time it was as 
well, perhaps, that the first boy had ceased to live, 
for he was not the kind of lad Bobbie could have 
introduced to the angel. 

“And now,” said the Coastguard, u jigger my 
eyes if I must n’t on with my jacket and find my 
spy-glass and see what ’s going on outside. Where ’s 
that young curate got to, I wonder ? ” 

The Coastguard went presently, after telling 
Bobbie that he might call again at the Martello 
tower, and that if he behaved he should one day go 
out to the Coastguard Station, and see, by aid of 
the telescope, the coast of France. Bobbie, alone 
with the angel, and allowed to seat himself at the 
end of the harmonium, behaved with a preciseness 
and a decorum that in any other lad would have 
been held by Bobbie as good justification for 
punching that boy’s head. The angel’s right hand 
remaining on the higher keys for a space in order 
to give full effect to a final chord, he bent and 
kissed it. The scent of brown Windsor soap ever 
afterwards reminded him of this first essay in 
affection* 


220 


A Son of the State 


“ What ye up to ? ” demanded the angel. 

“ Only kissin’ your ’and,” said Bobbie, con- 
fusedly. 

“ We don’t kiss hands down in these parts,” 
said the large young lady. u That ain’t Kentish 
fashion.” 

u I like you,” remarked the boy, shyly. 

u My goodness ! ” said the angel, with affectation 
of much concern^ cc this won’t do. I must n’t be 
catched alone with a young man what says things 
like that. I ’d better be seeing about taking you 
back to the home, I reckon.” 

The curate not returning (having, as it proved, 
flown away to a neighbouring parish and forgotten 
all about the boy), this course had to be adopted, 
and the two walked back along the road on the 
edge of the white cliffs — Bobbie in a state of 
proud ecstasy, which reached its highest point 
when a boy, in passing them, called out to him, 
u Why doan’ you marry the girl ? ” The angel 
herself spoke of the amount that the starting of a 
household cost ; of the relative advantages of a 
house with folding doors but no bay windows, 
compared with a house having bay windows but 
no folding doors ; all in a manner that seemed to 
the boy, strutting by her side, highly encouraging, 
and, under the circumstances, as much as on such 


A Son of the State 


221 


brief acquaintance a man could reasonably expect. 
At the home, any trouble that might have arisen 
by reason of the boy’s extended absence was re- 
moved by the fact that the angel had once been a 
highly esteemed servant at the Institution ; the 
Lady Superintendent met them without a frown. 
The large young lady found herself lugged into the 
kitchen by two of the white-aproned maids for a 
chat, and when presently she looked in to say good 
night, at the reading-room where Bobbie was finish- 
ing a sea story, she kissed him, to the great envy 
of the other convalescent young students. 

“ Serve us all alike, miss,” begged a lad with 
crutches. 

“You be quiet,” ordered Bobbie, u unless you 
want your head punched.” 

u Give me ’alf a one,” urged the lad with 
crutches. 

“ No fear,” said the angel, cheerfully. She 
nodded her head to Bobbie. “ He ’s my young 
man.” 

u Should have thought you ’d got better taste, 
miss.” 

“ You leave off* talking to that lady,” growled 
Bobbie, “or I’ll spoil your features for you.” 
The large young lady waved her hand and dis- 
appeared through the swing doors. “ If you ain’t 


222 A Son of the State 

a gentleman, do, for goodness’ sake, try to ’ide the 
fact.” 

In the few weeks of Bobbie’s residence, the 
Coastguard became his very good friend. The 
boy learned the secrets of flags, listened with an 
interest that he had never felt at school to the 
accounts of British victories by sea in the past, 
absorbing with great appetite the Coastguard’s 
figures illustrating the current state of the navy. 
In his young heart patriotism was born. 

Permitted to see through the telescope the coast 
of France, he commenced to realise actualities that 
he had never gained from maps. In the school of 
the Cottage Homes the general impression amongst 
incredulous small boys had been that no such 
places as foreign countries really existed ; that 
these were fictions invented by adults for the more 
complete annoyance and trouble of children. Now 
the line of cliffs where on bright days tiny black 
specks could be seen moving, brought conviction ; 
the boy found that he had much to learn, and 
something to forget. One Sunday afternoon, 
being allowed to go down to the sleeping harbour, 
and over the line, and along the quay by the Cus- 
toms House, he met, by happy chance, the angel, 
in white, with green sunshade, who, it appeared, 
waited for someone who would be free as soon as 


A Son of the State 


223 


the baggage had been cleared ; together they 
watched the Channel steamer bustle in and wake 
up the harbour, saw ropes thrown, gangways fixed, 
and presently heard the arriving passengers chatter- 
ing in a language which the angel told him was 
French. 

M Ignorant set, ain’t they ? ” asked Bobbie. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” said the large young lady, 
tolerantly. 

u I ’ave n’t got much opinion of foreigners,” 
said the boy. u For one thing, why don’t they 
learn a decent language like ourn ? ” 

“ I s’pose they get on all right without it.” 

“Do you know any French ? ” 

u A bit,” said the angel, modestly. 

“ Tell us some ! ” 

“Je vous aime,” said the angel. On Bobbie 
demanding a translation, the large young lady, 
shading her face with the green parasol, furnished 
this. 

“ Who learnt it you ? ” demanded Bobbie, 
jealously. 

w Ah,” said the angel, acutely, w that ’s telling.” 

It galled him considerably on the last occasion 
that the breezy young curate took him under his 
wing to fly away with him along the cliff and look 
in at the Martello tower for a picture of a ship 


224 


A Son of the State 


which the Coastguard had promised to him, to find 
the small room almost wholly occupied by a tall 
bashful young Customs officer, with limbs so long 
that when he sat down his knees came up in a 
manner which Bobbie considered eminently ridicu- 
lous. The angel had not arrived, but was ex- 
pected ; when the curate insisted upon Bobbie 
coming away with him, his picture of the ship 
under his arm, in order that they might skirt the 
cliffs swallow-like once more, Bobbie complied 
with hesitation, being thus denied the joy of seeing 
the lady of his heart. 

u I ’d like to stay ’ere all me bloomin’ lifetime,” 
said Bobbie to the Lady Superintendent that night. 

Nevertheless, the next day he had to listen to 
the voice of reasonableness, to pack up the books 
that had been given him by the curate, the picture 
that Coastguard had presented, and a marvellous 
four-bladed knife from the angel, for which he had 
paid to that young lady the sum of one halfpenny, 
in order that the knife might not, in its keenness, 
sever friendship. He said good-bye to the Lady 
Superintendent, remembering (just in time) to say, 
“ Thank you,” a phrase with which he had be- 
come on intimate terms, and walked stolidly down 
to the station, where a train would take him back 
to London and the Homes. As he looked at the 


A Son of the State 


225 

contents of the bookstall (he had begun in those 
days to feel an appetite for reading, and a strange 
craving when not furnished with something in the 
form of printed words) to him appeared : — 

First, the angel ! Bobbie had felt confident 
that the large young lady would not allow him to 
depart without giving him an opportunity of for- 
mally declaring his love ; he had already decided 
on the form of his address. 

Second, the curate ! Curate flying in through 
the booking office, skimming restlessly up and 
down the platform, chatting with porters, chucking 
babies under the chin, and telling the station- 
master how a railway ought to be managed. 

Third, Coastguard. Jiggering everything at 
frequent intervals ; handing over to Bobbie as final 
gifts a parcel of huge ham sandwiches and a model 
clockwork steamer. 

Fourth, as the train signalled from the preceding 
station, an entirely unnecessary person in the shape 
of the tall Customs officer, rather shy, but taking 
up, as it seemed to Bobbie, the unwarrantable atti- 
tude of being a friend of the family, and brushing 
from the angel’s brown cape a few specks of dust 
with a calmness for which Bobbie, circumstances 
willing, could have felled him to the platform. 

“ I say,” said Bobbie, leaning out of the car- 

15 


226 


A Son of the State 


riage window, when he had been helped into the 
train, u I want to speak to you.” 

“ Me ? ” asked the Customs. 

w You ? ” said Bobbie, with infinite scorn. 
u Good ’Eavens, no. I mean her.” The angel 
stepped forward. u I want to ask you something,” 
he said rather unsteadily. 

w I know what it is,” declared the angel, gaily. 
w You want me to remember to send you some of 
the cake.” 

“ What cake ? ” 

u Oh, as if you did n’t know,” said the angel, 
reproachfully. u Why, my weddin’ cake, of 
course. Don’t say you have n’t heard that me 
and him,” indicating the tall Customs officer, a are 
going to be married next month at — Now 
you ’re off. Good-bye, dear.” 

“ Be a good lad,” cried Coastguard, as the train' 
moved. 

“ Be sure to get out at Cannon Street,” called 
the curate, flying along the platform, u and don’t 
forget to say your prayers at night.” 

When, two hours later, the train ran into the 
London terminus, porters surveyed with critical 
eye each compartment, and having made hurried 
selections, staked out their claim by seizing a car- 
riage handle as they trotted along till the train 


A Son of the State 


227 

stopped. Bobbie, rather ill-tempered on the jour- 
ney because his affairs of the heart had been so 
brutally checked, had his head out of the window 
as the train slowed np. 

“ Any luggage ? ” asked the porter, breathlessly. 

Bobbie shook his head, and the porter hurried 
on in search of a more encumbered traveller. 
Bobbie, walking down the crowded platform to the 
barrier, found the word luggage remaining in his 
mind. It recalled evenings with Bat Miller at sta- 
tions on the other side of the City, followed some- 
times by an interesting review of the contents of a 
portmanteau or a lady’s dressing-case in Ely Place. 
Around the guard’s van, now disgorging its con- 
tents hurriedly and confusedly, passengers stood as 
though at an auction, and when they saw an article 
of luggage in tune with their desires, held up a 
hand, and the article being knocked down to them, 
they bore it off without further question. In the 
centre, one of the busy porters acting as auctioneer 
held up a bright brown portmanteau with initials 
painted boldly. 

“ Anybody claim this ? ” demanded the harried 
porter. cc Anybody claim a bag with — A bun- 
dle of rugs, lady ? I ’ll look after it in ’alf a mo- 
ment, if you’ll only leave off prodding me in the 
back with that gamp of yours.” 


228 A Son of the State 

u I want,” said Bobbie’s voice, “ a bag marked 
L. C. E.” 

u Why,”^ grumbled the porter, handing it over 
to Bobbie, u ’ere ’ave I been the last five minutes 
trying to find a owner for it. Want a cab ? ” 

“ No,” said Bobbie, “ I ’ll carry it.” 

He gave up his ticket at the barrier and lugged 
the heavy bag across to a departure platform. 

It was, as the porter had said, a heavy bag, and 
anxious as the boy felt to get away with it, he 
found himself obliged to rest for a moment when 
he had reached the platform. Then he started on 
again, the heavy portmanteau bumping against his 
knee. Through his alert little head a scheme had 
already danced ; a scheme necessitating an empty 
compartment to permit of a selection from the 
articles which the bag contained, and the disposal 
of the bag itself. This would have the advantage 
of deferring the awkward duty of returning to the 
Cottage Homes that day. A nurse walked by on 
the platform, with flowing cloak and white bands ; 
Bobbie’s mind was recalled to Sister Margaret. 
From Sister Margaret his thoughts went to his 
other friends. He sat down on the portmanteau ; 
his breath came quickly. 

“ They ’d all look pretty straight,” he 9aid to 
himself, “if they knew.” He rose slowly, and 


A Son of the State 


229 

gripped the stout leather handles of the bag. 
u ’Owever, I ain’t going to be copped. There ’s 
plenty that do a thing like this quietly and never 
so much as — ” 

He stopped. Across the line on the wall a 
large portrait in an advertisement frame had — a 
cloud of engine smoke disappearing — come into 
view. Bobbie stared at it. 

u The old Lady,” he muttered. 

The portrait of her Majesty the Queen of Eng- 
land and Great Britain looked across at Bobbie 
with, as it seemed to him, a look of surprise, min- 
gled with reproof. A train whistled, a ticket col- 
lector shouted, w North Kent train to Blackheath,” 
but the boy did not move. When the train had 
started, and the smoke had cleared away, Bobbie 
found his attention still held by the portrait on the 
other platform. 

w The old Lady,” he quoted, under his breath, 
“will ’ave the best. She don’t mind what she 
pays for her navy, but she will ’ave it good. 
None of your criminals for her navy, if you 
please.” 

He started up, his face white and perspiring. 
Lugging the weighty portmanteau back to the 
arrival barrier, he staggered determinedly through. 

u Tell you what,” a young officer lad was say- 


230 


A Son of the State 


ing fiercely. u If you porters don’t find that fear- 
ful bag of mine, I ’ll — ” 

u ’Scuse me,” interrupted Bobbie, placing the 
portmanteau at the feet of its owner. “ My mis- 
take. Took it off* in the hurry, instead of me 
own.” 

cc I ’m really most fearfully obliged,” declared 
the officer lad, effusively. “ It has my dress suit, 
don’t you know, and I should have looked such a 
fearfully silly fool this evening without it.” 

u You ’re saved from that now, sir,” said the 
inspector, pointedly. 

“ What I mean to say is, I ’m so fearfully in- 
debted to you that really — ” 

“ Don’t name it,” said Bobbie. u Glad I 
brought it back in time.” 

u Good-bye, old chap,” said the officer lad, 
shaking hands with the boy. w I ’m most fear- 
fully glad to have met you. Can’t give you a 
lift, I suppose, anywhere, can I, what ? ” 

“ Thanks, fearfully,” said Bobbie. “ My 
brougham ’s waiting outside for me. Ta-ta ! ” 


A Son of the State 


231 


CHAPTER XIII 

TJ OSES at Collingwood upon his return ; and 
thorns. Thorns supplied, not by the foster- 
father or the foster-mother, but by the boys, who, 
once they had extracted full particulars of Bobbie’s 
adventure, made from these facts ammunition for 
gay badinage that, well aimed, gave them great 
content. In school, the game was played furtively. 
A slip of paper would be passed along the forms 
of the fourth standard class bearing the inquiry of 
a seeker after knowledge, u Who pinched the 
cornet ? ” this would be varied by rough sketches 
executed by Master Nutler of a lad running, with 
the words underneath, u Hold him ! ” When 
Bobbie strolled out of school at dinner time, there 
would come an affected cry of alarm, “ He ’s off 
again ! ” Robert Lancaster took all of this with 
stolidity and in a manner differing from that which 
he would have exhibited a month previously. It 
seemed that the failure of his expedition had 
tamed him ; certainly his stay in the hospital and 
at the convalescent home had given him reticence. 
He applied himself to his lessons. After a few 


232 


A Son of the State 


weeks the other boys declined to be led any longer 
by Master Nutler, because there seemed little 
sport in rallying a man who showed no signs of 
annoyance, and Bobbie Lancaster presently found 
— excepting for an occasional reminder — that 
the Brenchley escapade had gone out of memory. 
Miss Nutler, on one of the rare occasions when 
they met, expressed her regret at the consequences 
of their disagreement, hinting that, so far as she 
was concerned, the past could be shut out from 
memory. 

u It was my eldest brother put me up to it,” 
said Miss Nutler, apologetically. w You know 
what a one he is.” 

u I do,” remarked Master Lancaster. 

“ I should never ’ave thought of it if it had n’t 
been for him,” declared Miss Nutler. “ A better 
hearted girl than me you would n’t find in a day’s 
march.” 

“ Dessay ! ” 

“ In fact,” went on the young person, waxing 
enthusiastic, u I ’m too good-hearted for this world. 

I ’m a fool to meself. And that ’s why I gave 
way when he told me to pretend you ’d hurt me. 
See ? ” 

“ I see.” 

u And so long as you say there ’s no ill-will 


A Son of the State 


233 


and so long as you agree to forgive and forget, so 
to speak, why, there ’s no reason, as you remarked 
just now, why we should n’t be capital friends.” 

“ I never said no such thing,” said the boy. 

w Didn’t you ? ” said Miss Nutler, wonderingly. 
“ Words to that effect, then.” 

“ No ! Not words to that effect, neither.” 

“ You ’re back in the band, are n’t you ? ” 

u I am back in the band.” 

u All the girls in our cottage rave about your 
cornet playing.” 

w Straight ? ” He could not help smiling at this 
generous compliment. 

w As if I should tell a lie,” said Miss Nutler. 
“ Why, they ’re always talking about you. How 
you ’ve growed and how you ’ve improved in your 
manner and — there ! I tell you. I get quite 
jealous sometimes.” 

“ What call have you to be jealous ? ” 

u Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! ” said the young woman, 
self-reproachfully. u Now I ’ve been and let the 
cat out of the bag. That ’s me all the world over. 
I never meant you to see that I was — hem — 
fond of you.” 

“ Put all ideas of that out of your red young 
crumpet,” he advised steadily, w as soon as ever 
you like.” 


234 A Son of the State 

“ Is there somebody else ? ” asked Miss Nutler, 
flushing. 

u Since you ask the question — yes.” 

M Does she live ’ere at the Homes ?” 
w She does not live ’ere at the Homes.” 
w If she did,” said Miss Nutler, fiercely, u I ’d 
pay her out, the cat. And you ’re a double-faced 
boy, you are. I would n’t be seen talking to you 
for fifty thousand pounds.” 

u I guessed that was the amount.” 

Miss Nutler walked off aflame with annoyance, 
turning as she reached the gate and making a face 
not pretty, in order that Bobbie might understand 
the true state of her feelings. That evening one 
of the Nutler family handed Bobbie a note on 
which was written, u Dear sir, referring to our meet- 
ing, I beg to inform you that all is over between 
us. Yours obed’tly, Louisa Nutler. — P. S. A 
reply by bearer will oblige.” Bobbie tore the note 
into many pieces, threw them over the messenger, 
and going indoors penned a careful note to Mrs. 
Bell, of Pimlico Walk. This contained an ac- 
count of his progress ; contained also five words, 
w Give my love to Trixie,” which note, reaching 
the Walk the next morning, made so much sun- 
shine for the industrious young lady that she pro- 
ceeded to scrub the stairs from top to basement 


A Son of the State 


235 

in order to prevent herself from becoming light- 
headed. 

There was indeed progress to report. The 
Fourth Standard being carried by assault, his brain 
had now to wrestle in the large schoolroom with 
dogged enemies of youth. 

By the help of an assistant master, whose stock 
of enthusiasm had not been quite exhausted by lads 
of the Nutler brand, Bobbie showed excellent fight, 
and if it sometimes happened that he was worsted, 
the defeats were but temporary. Winter came, 
and with it football matches. An eminent three- 
quarter (who was also a trombone) having retired 
from the team during the off season in order to 
take up duties at Kneller Hall, Bobbie, in games 
with private schools, found himself selected for the 
position. The drill-serjeant took interest in the 
lad, and on the boarded-over swimming-bath, in- 
structed him carefully at five o’clock each evening 
in the art of vaulting. All this helped to make a 
solid youth of Robert Lancaster, and he found 
himself wishful for manhood. 

The Sister at the infirmary beyond the western 
gates having to take a month’s holiday, a friend of 
hers came to act as substitute, and this friend prov- 
ing to be Sister Margaret, Bobbie found an addi- 
tional incentive for correct behaviour because Sister 


236 A Son of the State 

Margaret, when going down at any time the broad 
gravelled road between the cottages, always selected 
him for one of her cheerful bows, causing Bobbie’s 
cap to fly off in acknowledgment and making him 
flush with gratification. Sister Margaret told him 
that Myddleton West had gone to Ireland for one 
of the daily journals, and together they read his 
letters in that journal. It seemed clear that Sister 
Margaret continued to have no objection to talking 
about Myddleton West, for she made the boy de- 
scribe several times over the morning when he had 
called at his rooms in Fetter Lane; at each repe- 
tition Bobbie managed to find (or to invent) some 
additional incident that made the young woman’s 
bright eyes become brighter with interest. When 
the regular Sister returned, Sister Margaret had to 
leave, and Bobbie walked with her to the station 
to carry her portmanteau, giving much good advice 
on the way with view of doing a good turn for his 
friend. Apparently his arguments made some im- 
pression on Sister Margaret, for when, as the train 
went off, he shouted, u Give my kind respects to 
him, miss, when you write. And tell him he 
ain’t forgotten,” it looked as though the young 
woman’s bright eyes became suddenly wet. 

The seasons passed. The fourteenth birthday 
came so near that it was quite possible to reckon 


A Son of the State 


237 


the interval by number of days. For some months 
Robert Lancaster had been a half-timer ; he de- 
sired now to say good-bye definitely to school, and to 
go into the workshops, because this would be a con- 
spicuous milestone marking his journey. The Coast- 
guard and the Coastguard’s daughter and the long 
Customs’ officer came to see him on one of the later 
days, and he showed them with pride the tailor’s 
shop, the bootmaker’s shop, the carpenter’s shop, and 
the engineer’s shop, and Coastguard and himself 
(whilst the tall daughter went with the representa- 
tive of her Majesty’s Customs to take tea at the 
hotel opposite the gates) talked over questions 
of trades, and their various advantages. They 
weighed them separately ; when the young couple 
returned, Coastguard with a look of wisdom that 
judges of Appeal try to assume and cannot, de- 
livered his decision. Bobbie, interested in this, 
saw the long Customs’ officer snatch a kiss from 
Coastguard’s daughter with no feeling of jealousy, 
and, indeed, with diversion. 

w Nothing like helping yourself,” remarked 
Bobbie, amused. 

u Do give over, John,” said Coastguard’s daugh- 
ter, reprovingly. “ You never know when to 
stop.” 

u These youngsters,” said Bobbie to Coastguard, 


238 A Son of the State 

paternally, “ they will carry on, won’t they ? 
Same now as it was in our young day.” 

“ Dang the boy’s eyes,” said Coastguard, “ if he 
don’t notice everything.” 

“ It makes anyone,” said Bobbie, M when you 
see a couple young enough to know better a kissin’ 
each other.” 

“You ’re supposed not to notice such things at 
your age,” said the angel, reprovingly. 

“ Ah,” said the boy, acutely, “ supposed not.” 

u Reckon you ’ll be the next one we shall hear 
of getting engaged.” 

“Many a true word spoke in jest,” said the boy. 
“ And you think,” turning with seriousness to the 
Coastguard, “ you think I can’t do better than go 
in for learning that ? ” 

u Sure of it, my boy.” 

Therefore to the engineer’s shop went Bobbie, 
because the Coastguard had pointed out to him 
that some of the knowledge to be gained there 
could not fail some day to be valuable. Not that 
he intended to become an engineer. Decision as 
to his first occupation on leaving the Home had 
already been taken, being preserved as a secret 
which he proposed not to disclose until the appro- 
priate moment came. At the tables in the engi- 
neer’s shop he worked, and learned under direction, 


A Son of the State 239 

after some failures, how to use a lathe without 
pinching his fingers. The lads worked in extra 
garments of aprons and paper caps ; their task 
made them so grimy that they felt sure no one 
could tell them from adults ; the wash that came 
after a day in the workshop seemed to put them 
back ten years. An increased feeling of maturity 
came to Bobbie when, on being selected to play 
u The Lost Chord,” as a cornet solo at a concert 
in the neighbourhood which the Home’s band at- 
tended, a local paper called him by a fascinating 
misprint Mister Robert Lancaster, intending to 
say Master, but allowing the i’s to have it. He 
walked rigidly upright for several weeks after this, 
and spoke to no boy under the age of thirteen. 

“ You fancy yourself,” remarked sarcastically 
the boys whom he ignored. 

“ I do,” he replied frankly. 

It became his keen endeavour at this period to 
reach at least four feet six in height. He had 
special reasons for this ambition, and days occurred 
when, in his impatience, he measured himself three 
times during the twenty-four hours. The last 
inch seemed as though it would never arrive ; 
other lads in the engineer’s shop, to encourage 
him, expressed the cheerful opinion that he had 
stopped growing. Finding in a newspaper an 


240 


A Son of the State 


advertisement specially addressed “To the Short,” 
he wrote privately to Trixie Bell to obtain for him 
the golden remedy that the advertisers promised to 
send on receipt of two shillings and ninepence, and 
when Trixie, glad of an opportunity for being use- 
ful, obeyed, sending him the result as a birthday 
present, “ With kind regards,” Bobbie found that 
the remedy was but a pair of thick list soles to be 
worn inside the boots ; he perceived hopelessly 
that nothing could be done to encourage Nature. 
The last pencil mark on the wall of his dormitory 
denoting his height remained as a record for 
months ; depression enveloped him when he gazed 
at it. But there came a spring season when he 
found to his intense delight that he had, within a 
brief period, not only shot up to the necessary 
inches, but just beyond them, and the mother of 
Collingwood Cottage had to lengthen the arms of 
his jackets and the legs of his trousers. On being 
measured anew in the tailor’s shop, he laughed 
with sheer delight. 

The day of all days came. 

“ Father wants to see you, Lancaster,” an- 
nounced one of the other lads. 

u What ’s up ? ” 

M Committee day,” said the other lad. 

Robert Lancaster ran off to find the Colling- 


A Son of the State 


241 


wood father, and came up to him breathless. The 
Collingwood father was a serious man, made more 
serious by his family of other people’s children ; 
his face took now an aspect of importance, and he 
laid his hand on the lad’s shoulder. 

“Time’s come,” he said. 

u Three cheers,” said Bobbie. 

“ Keep cool, my lad.” 

“ I am cool,” said Bobbie, trembling with 
eagerness. 

u Don’t forget that the gentlemen, what you are 
going now to have an interview with, represent, so 
to speak, your benefactors what have looked after 
you and clothed you and fed you and, generally 
speaking, kept you flourishing.” 

“ I know what you mean.” 

“You’ll go before the Committee,” said the 
father of Collingwood Cottage, solemnly, “ and 
what I want to impress upon you, my boy, is the 
necessity of putting on your very best manners. 
A little bad behaviour on your part will go a long 
way.” 

“ I ’ll watch out, father.” 

“You can’t be too civil,” urged the father of 
Collingwood, anxiously. “I tell you that, Bobbie, 
because, naturally, you ain’t what I call the hum- 
blest chap going, and if you want these nobs to 
16 


242 


A Son of the State 


agree to what you want, you must show ’em any 
amount of what I may venture to call deference.” 

“ I ’ll lick all the bloomin’ blackin’ off their 
bloomin’ boots,” promised Bobbie. 

“ Give your ’ands another wash,” recommended 
the father, “ and then go up.” 

The Superintendent stood at the side of the 
table; seated there were half-a-dozen men who 
looked like, and indeed were, retired tradesmen. 
In one of them the lad recognised the carpenter 
(now in white waistcoat and with other signs of 
prosperity) who had been on the jury which had 
investigated, years ago, the death of his mother. 
A cheery red-faced man sat in the large arm-chair 

“ Robert Lancaster, gentlemen, fourteen years 
of age and a good lad with a fairly good record, 
has passed the Fourth Standard, and is one of the 
best of our bandsmen.” 

u Now, my lad ! ” The jovial-looking chair- 
man pointed the ruler at him. “ What would you 
like to be? We’ve fed you and educated you 
and brought you up, and we don’t want to see all 
the trouble wasted.” 

“ Moreover,” said the carpenter, as Bobbie pre- 
pared to speak, w it ’s a question on which, by 
rights, you ought to take our advice. We ’re men 
of the world, and as such we know what ’s good 


A Son of the State 


243 

for you a jolly sight better than you do. My 
argument has always been that pauper children — ” 
The chairman coughed. 

u Or whatever you like to call ’em ought not to 
be allowed to pick and choose. It pampers ’em,” 
said the carpenter gloomily, sending his penholder, 
nib downwards, into the table, “ I don’t care what 
you say ; it pampers ’em.” 

w I should like, sir, please,” said Bobbie, 
“ to — ” 

“ Choose a honest trade,” suggested the car- 
penter. 

“Let the boy speak,” urged one of the other 
members. 

“ I should like to be a sailor,” said the lad. 

“ Ah ! ” said the carpenter, triumphantly. 
“ What did I tell you ? ” 

cc Our band boys don’t often go into the navy,” 
said the Superintendent. “ Most of them go in 
for the other branch of the service.” 

“ Jolly good thing,” said the gloomy carpenter, 
with his fingers in the pockets of his white waist- 
coat, “ if all your armies and all your navies was 
done away with and abolished.” 

u Talk sense ! ” advised his neighbour. 

“ What are they,” asked the carpenter, “ but a 
tax on the respectable tradesmen of this country ? 


244 


A Son of the State 


What good are they ? What do they do ? That ’s 
what I want to know.’* He looked round at his 
colleagues with the confident air of one propound- 
ing a riddle of which none knew the answer. 
w Will someone kindly tell me what good the 
navy does ? What benefit does it do me or any 
of us seated at this table ? If all our ships was 
to disappear this very morning before twelve 
o’clock struck, should I be any the worse off? ” 
u Why, you silly old silly,” broke in the lad on 
the other side of the table, impetuously, cc if that 
was to ’appen some foreign power would be down 
on us before you could wink, and you ’d find 
yourself — ” 

u Silence ! ” ordered the Superintendent. 
w Find yourself,” persisted Bobbie, “ turned 
into a bloomin’ Russian very like, and sent to 
Siberia.” 

w You have your answer,” remarked the chair- 
man, jovially. 

“ Kids’ talk,” growled the carpenter. 
u Why,” declared Bobbie, u it ’s the only pro- 
tection you ’ve got to enable you to carry on your 
business peaceably and successfully, and without 
interference.” 

w I never felt the want of no navy in carryin’ 
on my business in Shoreditch.” 


A Son of the State 245 

u Course you did n’t,” said Bobbie. “ But if 
there had n’t been a navy you would.” 

It was all very irregular ; the Superintendent 
felt this, but the members of the committee showed 
so much gratification in seeing their colleague 
routed that it scarce seemed right for him to inter- 
fere. The chairman rapped gently on the table 
as a mild reminder that order appeared to be tem- 
porarily absent. 

“ Fact of it is,” said the carpenter, resentfully, 
“ you youngsters get so pampered — ” 

cc Come, come ! ” said the chairman, u let us 
get along. You think you ’ll like the navy, my 
lad?” 

u Sure of it, sir.” 

w It ’s a hard life, mind you. Especially at 
first.” 

“ Sha’n’t mind that, sir.” 

“ You ’ll undergo pretty severe preparation; we 
shall have to find out from the doctor whether 
you can stand it or not. Her Majesty does n’t 
want half-and-half sort of lads in her navy.” 

u I think I shall be all right, sir. I ’ve im- 
proved wonderful in the years I ’ve been here.” 

u Made a man of you, have we ? ” 

“You have that, sir,” said Bobbie. 

“ Well, then—” 


246 A Son of the State 

cc Something was said,” interrupted the car- 
penter, still smarting, w about this lad having a 
fairly good record. I should like to be kindly 
informed what his record actually is. If there ’s 
anything against him it ’s only right and fair and 
honest and just that we should know about it 
now.” 

The Superintendent explained, and Robert 
Lancaster went white at the lips as he heard the 
account — by no means a harsh account — of his 
escape from the Homes. 

“ Since which time,” added the Superintendent, 
“ his conduct has been most exemplary.” 

“ Thank you, sir,” burst out the lad. 

ct And this is the lad,” argued the carpenter, 
u that you ’re going to spend more of the rate- 
payers’ money on. This is the lad that ’s cost us 
a matter of thirty pound a year for the last four 
years, and now we ’re going to send him off to a 
training ship, where he ’ll cost us a matter of 
thirty-two pound a year. Is that so, or is it not 
so ? ” 

u It is so,” said the chairman. 

u It ’s enough,” declared the retired carpenter, 
gloomily, “ to make a man give up public life 
altogether. What was he when we begun to have 
to do with him ? Answer me, somebody.” 


A Son of the State 247 

The Superintendent asked if the information 
was really necessary. 

M Pardon me, sir,” said Robert Lancaster, from 
the other side of the table. cc I can give the in- 
formation what ’s required. I was left without 
parents, I was, and I become the ’sociate of bad 
characters. My coming down ’ere put me on the 
straight, and I tell you I ain’t particular anxious 
to get off of it.” 

u My lad ! ” said the jovial chairman, cc we ’ll 
see that you don’t. You ’ll have a couple of years 
on the training ship, and when you leave there I 
hope you ’ll make up your mind to be a credit to 
your parish, to your country, and your Queen.” 

M Hooray ! ” said Robert Lancaster, softly. 

“ And we shall look to you to see that all this 
money which has been spent on you is not wasted. 
We shall expect you to become a good citizen, 
one who will help in some small way to improve 
the estimate in which his great country is held.” 

u Bah ! ” said the carpenter. But the other 
members of the Committee said, u Hear, hear.” 

cc Come back and see the Homes when you get 
an opportunity,” said the jovial chairman, a little 
moved by his own eloquence ; “ remember that 
we shall watch your career with interest and — 
God bless you ! ” 


248 A Son of the State 

The chairman leaned across the table and shook 
hands with Robert. The lad bowed awkwardly 
to the other members of the Committee, and would 
have spoken, but something in his throat prevented 
him. He punched at his cap, and on a signal 
from the Superintendent went out at the doorway. 

M Pampering of ’em,” said the retired carpenter, 
darkly, w pampering of ’em as fast as ever you 
can.” 


A Son of the State 


249 


CHAPTER XIV 

^ I V HE vessel to which Bobbie went had been 
in its gallant youth a battleship and pos- 
sessed an eventful and a creditable record. Moored 
in the Thames off the flat coast of Essex,, and 
painted black, it was a huge, solid, responsible 
three-decker, doing excellent work in the autumn 
of its life, and giving temporary residence to some 
five or six hundred boys. Mainly, the youngsters 
were metropolitan, but sometimes the guardians of 
distant towns in the North would arrange with the 
Board for one of their lads to be consigned to the 
training ship, who, being arrived, spoke a language 
that seemed to the London boys almost foreign. 
A long, low jetty ran from the shore as far as it 
dared into the water ; where it stopped, a gig 
rowed by eight of the boys, under the command of 
an officer, took you off to the big black ship, on 
the starboard side of which a dozen small boats 
rocked and nudged each other in the ribs, and a 
barge dozed stolidly. (In case of alarm the whole 
of the boys could be cleared out of the ship and 


250 A Son of the State 

carried away by these to safety.) Away down the 
river a smart brigantine berthed generally in view, 
and this the boys who intended to join the Royal 
Navy gazed at hopefully, because it was the brig- 
antine which taught them seamanship, with assist- 
ance from a master mariner and two mates ; it was 
the brigantine, too, which now and again skimmed 
the cream of the Westmouth in the shape of some 
forty boys whom it conveyed out of the river into 
the open, and presently down Channel to one of 
the training vessels which acted as the last refining 
process before entrance was made into the service. 
To the Essex shore came, nearly every week, from 
various poor-law schools, boys who, after inspec- 
tion, were conveyed out to the Westmouth , where 
the captain looked at the doctor’s report, giving 
their heights, chest measurements, and other partic- 
ulars forming the foundation of their dossier. This 
over, the new boys went back to shore to be clothed 
in sailor uniform, and re-appeared in blue serge 
trousers and jacket and cap, trying to look as though 
the navy had for them no secrets, and the West- 
mouth nothing in the way of information to impart. 
They came in and went out of the training vessel 
at the rate of about three hundred a year, so that 
the numbered white cases down on the lower deck 
containing kits were always in use, and every ham- 


A Son of the State 251 

mock on the three decks contained at night a tired- 
out lad. 

For Robert Lancaster soon discovered that the 
note of the Westmouth was to keep moving. If 
you worked, you worked hard ; if you played, you 
played hard. School had no great demands upon 
him now, for, being out of the Fourth Standard, it 
was required of him that he should attend but two 
hours on the Friday of every week; a boy might 
have assumed that with this dispensation one could 
look forward to a life of ease and content. Not 
so on board the Westmouth . Robert Lancaster 
was never allowed to be lazy. The life formed 
an exact opposite to those old days at Hoxton 
(several centuries ago, it seemed to him), when the 
delight of life was to u mouch,” which, translated, 
is to wander through the years aimlessly. Robert 
made some vague suggestions of reform to his 
comrades, with the result that a boy from Poplar 
made up his mind to state a complaint formally 
on the first opportunity. The Poplar boy (num- 
bered 290) had already written a brief account, 
which he had shown to Robert, entitled “The 
Mutiny on the Westmouth ,” a forecast of a some- 
what bloodthirsty character, where gore flowed 
readily, and exclamations of a melodramatic char- 
acter were used, such as “ Die, you dog ! ” and 


252 A Son of the State 

“ At last we meet face to face ! ” but Robert criti- 
cised this with some acidity, because in the course 
of it Number Two Ninety himself performed all 
the deeds of surpassing valour, using six Martini- 
Henry rifles and a field gun, at the same time doing 
desperate action with two cutlasses : the end of the 
account gave a gruesome description of the upper 
deck strewn with the bodies of officers, and of 
Number Two Ninety being unanimously elected 
captain by his fellow mutineers. Robert said he 
thought the picture overdrawn. Opportunity, 
however, occurred on some of the guardians from 
Poplar visiting the ship ; one, a sharp clergyman, 
demanded to know of the Poplar boys whether 
they had any complaint to make. 

“ No, sir,” sang most of the Poplar boys. The 
mutineer’s arm went up. 

“•Ah ! ” said the clergyman, gratified. “ Here ’s 
a lad now who has something to say.” 

“Step forward, Two Ninety,” ordered the old 
captain. “Tell this gentleman what it is you wish 
to complain of. Is it the food ? ” 

“ Grub ’s all right, sir,” growled the Poplar boy. 
“ Is it the uniform ? ” asked the sharp clergyman. 
“ No fault to find with the clothes, sir.” 

“ Is it the ship ? ” 

“ Ship ’s good enough, sir.” 


A Son of the State 253 

Robert Lancaster, passing with a pail, half 
stopped to hear what the Poplar boy would say 
under this process of exhaustion. 

“Well, well, what is the complaint you wish to 
make ? ” 

Two Ninety from Poplar twisted his sailor’s cap 
nervously, and looked with some interest at his 
shoes. 

“ Well, sir,” he burst out, “ it ’s like this. They 
always keep on making you keep on.” 

Robert Lancaster, finding after a few weeks that 
his disinclination to continuous work and exercise 
had vanished, detached himself therefore from the 
small set on the Westmouth , called u The Born- 
Tireds.” After the fifth week privileges came to 
him ; he was allowed to go ashore with the 
other boys on Sunday afternoon ; he joined in the 
drill, and this he liked so much that he concealed 
from the officers the fact that the cornet and he 
were close acquaintances, fearing that membership 
of the band, which practised far away down in the 
hold, would interfere. He found books in the 
library with a sea flavour, and read Stevenson and 
Henty, and Clark Russell. He liked Clark 
Russell’s books, because they had always one 
admirable young lady in a distressful predicament, 
and this young lady he always thought of as being 


254 


A Son of the State 


Trixie Bell — Trixie, who had sent him her photo- 
graph, taken by an eminent artist of Hackney 
Road, and presenting her as in a snow-storm, 
with no hat, a basket of choice roses on her arm. 
At prayers one night, Robert found himself, some- 
what to his surprise, introducing a special silent 
reference to Trixie, and, pleased with his daring 
originality, he continued it, feeling, in a shy, half- 
ashamed way, that he had now assumed a respon- 
sible position in regard to the young lady. For 
the rest, there was not much time on the W zstmouth 
to think of outside affairs. 

He found his average day made up in this man- 
ner. At six o’clock in the morning, the lower 
deck, where he and some three hundred other boys 
slept, became suddenly filled with the blaring of a 
bugle ; on the instant Robert slipped out of his 
hammock. The chief petty officers (important 
lads of about fifteen or sixteen) issued orders, the 
boys dressed swiftly, hammocks were rolled up and 
stowed away at the sides, and then the busy work- 
ing day began. Robert Lancaster, despatched with 
other gallant sailors of his division, scrubbed the 
upper deck (protected by a canvas awning in sum- 
mer, and an awning and curtains in winter), the 
while two divisions saw to the main deck. Then 
the upper deck had to be swabbed, under the su- 


A Son of the State 


255 


perintendence of the ship’s officers, and, this done, 
breakfast-time had arrived. Robert Lancaster 
always felt the better for his breakfast, being, 
indeed, of the growing age when appetite is 
nearly ever acute and demanding to be satisfied. 
The watch on the mess deck cleared away, and at 
half-past eight one bell sounded. At nine o’clock 
two bells sounded, with the singers’ call for prayers 
and also for punishments, at which hour a few boys 
with correction looming close to them wished that 
they had chosen the life of a landsman. The excel- 
lent old captain’s theory was that you should either 
pat a boy on the back or cane him on the back, and 
this system worked out very well in practice; the 
most severe punishment consisted of a few hours’ 
solitude in the dark cell at the foc’sle end of the 
ship — an extreme remedy resorted to but once or 
twice a year. Prayers and punishment being over, 
there occurred work again. Sail-making, painting 
the sides of the Westmouth , seamanship instruc- 
tion ; in the tailors’ shop, manufacture of flags, 
repairing of oilskins and sou’westers, lengthening 
of trousers for their growing owners, making of 
seamanship stripes, re-covering of life-belts ; the 
biggest boys in the Rigger’s class called upon to 
strip and serve afresh the lower rigging of the ship. 
Relaxation came to Robert when sent out with 


256 A Son of the State 

others in one of the small boats which clustered at 
the side of the Westmouth , on which occasions he 
learnt the arts of boat-pulling and boat-sailing, un- 
der the guidance of a giant-voiced officer, who 
roared advice and frank criticism. Signalling had 
to be learnt, and this demanded of Robert that his 
intelligence should be livened ; the lad being on 
his mettle, and having made up his mind to extort 
the secrets from this cryptic procedure, earned 
commendation. There were classes in gunnery, 
too, where knowledge was gained in using the rifle 
and cutlass, as well as the management of field 
guns ; the rifles full-sized, and, indeed, a little out 
of proportion to the height of the smaller boys, so 
that it sometimes seemed that it would have been 
easier for the Martini-Henry to manage the boy 
than for the boy to manage the Martini-Henry. 
And about mid-day, after half an hour’s rest, when 
Robert bowled boys out on the upper deck, or be- 
ing at the wickets set in a wooden socket, sent the 
ball flying away to the Essex shore, came dinner. 
Now dinner on the Westmouth , mind you, was 
dinner. 

A bugle call brought the boys scurrying down 
the broad hatchway on to the mess deck, where a 
harmonium had been placed in position, and, as 
they hurried down, adjusting their red handker- 


A Son of the State 


257 


chiefs bib-fashion, the cook’s assistants dragged 
young lorries around by the long wooden tables, 
one wagon loaded with roast beef, another wagon 
carrying potatoes, another bearing vegetables and 
another bread. The boys on sharp days when ap- 
petite had become keen found it difficult to sing 
the grace to which the harmonium played a prelude, 
because their mouths watered. The scent from 
the roast beef was to them the most entrancing 
perfume, and ranged in companies they could not 
prevent their eyes from wandering to their table 
where portions were being served out in the deep 
tin plates. A bugle-call — everything on board 
the Westmouth was done by bugle-calls, and none 
was so effective as the call for silence — and 
grace. 

“Be present at our table, Lord, 

Be ’ere and everywhere adored 5 
These creatures bless, and grant that we 
May feast in Paradise with Thee.” 

On ordinary days work re-commenced in the 
afternoon with occasional brief rests for play, and 
after tea if there still remained work to do it had to 
be done. Strict orders had to be observed in the 
way of behaviour, and Robert slipped into these 
with greater ease because of his experience in the 
Cottage Homes. He learnt that an order being 
17 


258 A Son of the State 

given, obedience had to follow instantly and with- 
out question; the saluting of the officers was, he 
knew, but a respectful sign of his willingness to 
comply with this rule. In this way Robert Lan- 
caster learnt discipline. 

u It ’s easy enough,” argued Robert to the Pop- 
lar boy when he had been on the ship for nearly a 
year and was looking forward to the position of 
Chief Petty Officer with three stripes on his arm 
and a salary of a penny a week, 14 once you get 
into the swing of it. If you do have to put up 
with a bit of rough, you ’ve always got your 
Wednesdays to look forward to.” 

Wednesday, indeed, represented the golden day 
of the week for the Westmouth. Friends came 
then on permission of the captain, and when one 
evening a letter from Trixie Bell was brought over 
to the ship by the post-boy, a letter which asked 
her dear Robert to obtain a permit for two, the lad 
procured this and sent it off with bashful anticipa- 
tion of seeing the young lady and her large mother. 
The afternoon came, and he watched each arrival 
of the gig from the shore for the first sight of 
Trixie; wondering amusedly how Mrs. Bell 
would endure the brief passage and how she 
would be hauled out of the boat. But Trixie did 
not arrive nor did her mother come to endanger 


A Son of the State 259 

the safety of the gig; instead Number Three 
Thirty-Three (who was Robert) found himself 
called to receive a mite of a woman in a sailor hat 
bearing the inscription H.M.S. Magnificent in large 
gold letters, who having come up the ladder at the 
side of the ship one step at a time, now stood with 
a net full of oranges and cakes beside her ; her 
hands at her waist as though doubtful whether she 
ought not to dance a hornpipe, and looking up at 
Robert with her bead-like eyes full of astonish- 
ment. 

u Why,” cried little Miss Threepenny, u if he 
has n’t grown up to be a reg’lar what ’s a name.” 

u I was expecting two others,” remarked Robert, 
bending shyly to shake hands. 

u They could n’t come and they sent me in- 
stead,” said the little woman, mopping her fore- 
head with her handkerchief. “ Poor Mrs. Bell is 
as bad as bad, and Trixie — bless her ’eart — 
would n’t think of leaving her. So I says, c Sposin’ 
I go?’ And Trixie says, c You, Miss Three- 
penny?’ and I says, c Yes, me. It ’s my annual 
’oliday from Tabernacle Street Wednesday next, 
and — ’” 

u And here you are.” 

« c Why,’ says T rixie,” went on the small 
woman, declining to anticipate the end of her 


26 o 


A Son of the State 


story, “ ‘ you ’ll go and get lost.’ And I says, ‘ Stuff 
and nonsense ; if a grown-up woman of forty 
can’t take care of herself, who can ? Besides,’ I 
says, C I want to see the dear boy.’ And Trixie 
says, 4 So did I.’ ” 

44 Oh, she said that, did she ? ” remarked Robert, 
gratified. Other boys crowded round, preparing 
to invent humorous badinage. 

cc Ah ! ” said Miss Threepenny, acutely, w and 
what ’s more, she meant it.” 

It required some courage for a boy of Robert’s 
age to escort the amazing little woman over the 
ship ; urgent whispers from the other lads to be 
introduced to the new missis did not assist him. 
The chief officer nodded approvingly, and this 
gave encouragement. 

“Booking clerk at Fenchurch Street,” chattered 
on the little woman, 44 gave me ’alf a ticket, and 
I gave him a bit of my mind. People think be- 
cause I ain’t so tall as I might be that I ’ave n’t 
got a tongue in me ’ead. They find out their 
mistake.” 

44 Is Mrs. Bell very ill ? ” 

44 She ain’t much longer for this world,” an- 
swered Miss Threepenny. 44 She may linger on 
for a year or two, but that good young gel of hers 
will be left all alone in the world before she ’s 


A Son of the State 261 

very much older. Fortunately she ’s got a wise 
’ead on young shoulders and — What low ceilings 
they are ’ere ! ” The little woman bent her small 
body from an entirely unfounded fear of touching 
the roof with her sailor hat. w What ’s this part 
of the ship called, Bobbie ? ” 

u This,” explained the lad, M is called the 
foc’sle.” 

“ Why ? ” 

u Ah ! ” said Robert, u c why ’ is the one word 
you must n’t use on board ship.” 

Little Miss Threepenny trotted round, breath- 
less with the endeavour to keep up with the lad’s 
stride, presently thanking her stars in earnest 
terms when, the hour being two, she was allowed 
to sit on the foc’sle steps of the upper deck in 
company with a few mothers and sisters to watch 
the afternoon’s entertainment. 

u I shall ’ave to take notice of everything,” she 
chirruped, “ and go through it all when I get back 
to Pimlico Walk. Trixie will want to ’ear about 
it.” 

“ Don’t you go and get frightened,” urged 
Robert. 

“ Me frightened ? ” 

u There ’ll be some desperate deeds performed 
during the next hour,” said Robert, importantly. 


262 


A Son of the State 


u So long as there ’s no firing of guns,” said the 
little woman, adjusting her skirts precisely, “ I 
sha’n’t so much as wink. Once they begin to 
bang away — ” 

Two of the women visitors who had been look- 
ing curiously at the small creature, hastened to 
remark, with the knowledge born of experience, 
that there would be firing, one adding that for her 
part she always shut her eyes and put her hands 
over her ears when it came to that part ; an in- 
genious plan which happy Miss Threepenny prom- 
ised to adopt. Robert ran off and disappeared. 

The alarming clang, clang, clang of a bell ! 
Upon the instant, a swift rushing to and fro ; a 
throwing open of the door leading to the captain’s 
room ; boys with buckets of water hurrying up 
and forming in line; more boys dragging long boa- 
constrictors of leathern hose up to the doorway ; 
still more boys ready with brass nozzles to fix on ; 
more boys again in a tremendous state of excite- 
ment bearing scarlet extincteurs on their backs ; 
a white-capped, white-aproned cook up from below 
and assisting ; sharp commands from the officers ; 
the old captain watching all with his watch open. 
“ Good,” says the captain of the W estmouth , pres- 
ently, u very good indeed. Who was the first 
bucket up, Mr. Waltham ? ” “ Number Three 


A Son of the State 263 

Fifty-Two, sir,” says the chief officer. “ Three 
Fifty-Two,” thereupon says the captain, “ catch 
this sixpence.” 

Band now at a corner of the upper deck, with a 
stout drum placed upon trestles, to be whacked 
presently as though it had committed some gross 
breach of discipline. Music-stands up ; brass in- 
struments tested ; the bandmaster taps his wooden 
stand sharply. Three hundred boys in detach- 
ments on either side of the deck ; first officer, 
with a voice accustomed to open-air speaking, 
with the captain on the poop. A brief drill, and 
then, — 

“Form divisions!” 

u Right about face ! ” 

“ March ! ” 

The band plays ; the two broad, close, moving 
detachments go steadily around. A roar from the 
chief officer, and at once the broad masses become 
a number of thin strands with a serpentine move- 
ment to a new and more cheerful march from the 
band, and doing it with absolute accuracy for 
several minutes. u Halt ! ” Music stops. 

“ Boys,” shouts the old captain from the poop, 
“ very fair, very fair indeed ! Eh, Mr. Waltham ? ” 

“Very fair indeed, sir.” 

A selection made from the crowd; the rest 


264 


A Son of the State 


jump up on the sides of the ship, and become an 
audience. The selected boys stiffly in line, jackets 
off, accept, from a chief petty officer with a sack, 
pairs of wooden dumb-bells. Order given, they 
face round, watching the instructor narrowly and 
with seriousness. A signal from him and band 
having started a gentle waltz, the two hundred 
sailor boys go through a movement of thrusting 
the arms forward, withdrawing them sharply, keep- 
ing time ever to the music. A change of air on 
the part of the band, and each pair of arms swings 
from side to side. Another, and with clockwork 
preciseness the bells are up high, return to touch 
breast, go down to toes. A whole dozen of these 
changes, and amongst the later ones, movements 
with definite stamp of the right foot on the deck 
to the music of a Scotch reel. Pantomime rally 
from the band ; a bugle call, and the deck is clear. 

u If I had n’t seen it,” says astounded little 
Miss Threepenny to her two neighbours, and 
standing now on the topmost stair of the foc’sle 
steps, “ I should never ’ave believed it true ! ” 
u That ’s nothing,” remarks one of the women, 
lightly. u You watch out now, miss. My 
Jimmy ’s in the next.” 

To a march from the obliging band, enter forty 
serious boys, brown-legginged, belted, and bearing 


A Son of the State 265 

rifles. At the words of command, these go through 
a number of offensive and defensive movements, 
forming squares, performing cutlass drill, making 
lunges with their bayonetted rifles at a suppositi- 
tious enemy ; killing this supposititious enemy and 
withdrawing the bayonet neatly from his lifeless 
body. A good quarter of an hour of hard drill 
this, for which they are more than repaid by ap- 
plause from the younger boys seated on the sides 
of the vessel, and a word of approval from the 
captain. 

“ ’Ere comes Bobbie,” cries Miss Threepenny, 
excitedly. u Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! what will they 
be up to next ? ” 

Mothers seated on the steps may well start and 
clutch each other’s arms, for field guns are being 
dragged on now by straw-hatted detachments, and, 
to a brisk air from the band, tugged by long ropes 
around and around the deck. 

w There he is,” cries Miss Threepenny, excit- 
edly. “ There he is again. And there he is once 
more.” 

No time for Robert to take notice of the little 
woman’s shrill comments, even if the bustle al- 
lowed him to hear, for field guns are things that 
demand attention jealously. An order pulls them 
up short ; Robert with eight other lads stepping 


266 


A Son of the State 


their gun on the starboard side. Every boy 
panting ; every boy with his flushed face directed 
towards the chief officer on the poop. A shrill 
whistle. 

“ Dismount ! ” shouts the chief officer. 

Fierce attack on the guns, wheels off, axles 
unpinned, guns lifted, remainder of carriage pulled 
to pieces, all down flat on the deck, boys seated on 
them and looking up at the poop for comment. 

“ Fifteen seconds, Mr. Waltham.” 

w Fifteen, sir,” says the chief officer, respect- 
fully ; u fifteen as near as a toucher.” 

w They did it in less time last week, Mr. 
Waltham.” 

u They did it in less time last week, sir,” re- 
plies the chief officer. 

The old captain shakes his head first at the 
scarlet-faced lads seated on the portions of their 
gun carriages and then at his watch, as though 
inclined to blame the watch as much as the boys. 
The instructor goes from one set of lads to another 
growling a word of advice. 

“ Re-mount ! ” 

Every boy to his feet ; the parts of the carriage 
seized ; wheels held in place and fixed ; the heavy 
gun lifted and slung, carriage pushed forward to 
catch it in position. Robert’s detachment, to their 


A Son of the State 267 

great annoyance and confusion, find all their quick 
efforts retarded by the clumsiness of Number 
Eight, who, having mistaken his duties, has come 
into collision with another boy, and seems inclined 
to argue the matter out and prove himself thor- 
oughly in the wrong before anything further is 
done. At least six seconds lost by this action on 
the part of Number Eight in Robert Lancaster’s 
gun, so that the other five guns are all perfect and 
their boys standing cool and serene, whilst the 
final struggle is being concluded on the starboard 
side. 

u I rather want that movement concluded to- 
day,” says the old captain, leaning over and speak- 
ing ironically. 

“ What ’s your number ? ” asks the instructor 
of the offending boy. 

“ Eight, sir.” 

u Ah,” remarks the instructor, u it might as 
well be nought. Isn’t your place there? Very 
well, then.” 

“ Try that again, boys,” cries the chief officer. 
u Do it sharper this time. Think what you ’re 
about.” 

Thought and celerity and earnestness are all 
brought to bear on the next dismounting, and 
Number Eight of Robert’s set, reserving justifica- 


268 


A Son of the State 


tion for his previous conduct, proves himself as 
able a seaman as the rest. The remounting is 
performed with similar swiftness, and the old cap- 
tain lets the case of his watch close with a snap 
and says, leaning over the rails again and address- 
ing the boys on deck, u V eiy good, very good 
indeed. Eh, Mr. Waltham ? ” u Very good in- 
deed, sir,” agrees the chief officer. 

Fierce business coming now ! The white- 
headed mops go down the nozzles of the guns, 
come out again, the gunners stand clear, one lad 
jerks a string, and — bang ! White mop down 
again head first and withdrawn, gun sighted, and 
again — bang! It being unusual for an attacking 
force to do this dangerous work without casualty, 
half-a-dozen boys affect to receive the fire of the un- 
seen enemy and fall on deck screaming with great 
anguish, “ Oh, oh, oh ! ” and u Tip, ’elp, ’elp ! ” 
to the great consternation of one mother up near 
the foc’sle, who is with difficulty restrained from 
rushing down the steps. Ambulance corps hurries 
forward; one wounded boy has his trousers pulled 
up, his bared leg set between two pieces of wood 
and tied up, a stretcher brought, and he is taken, 
now giving agonising groans, which have a fine 
suggestion of pathos, to the port-side deck. Other 
boys who have fallen victims to the non-existent 


A Son of the State 269 

enemy have their arms placed in slings or their 
heads bandaged, and are led away by sympathetic 
ambulance men. 

w Sound for the march past, bugler.” 

Band, which has been interested in this scene 
of carnage, snatches up its instruments and starts 
a cheerful, brisk trotting air; the boys take the 
ropes and tug the guns on the field carriages once 
around the deck, the wounded following in the 
rear and still giving realistic groans at every other 
step, all disappearing at last through the large doors 
of the foc’sle to the applause of boys seated on 
the sides and fluttering of handkerchiefs from the 
foc’sle steps. 

u Bray’vo, Bobbie,” cries little Miss Three- 
penny. She turns and whispers apprehensively to 
the two women. u They ’re none of ’em reelly 
’urt, are they ? ” 

u ’Urt ? ” echoes one of the two women. 
“ They know better than go and get ’urt, bless 
you.” 

“ All the same,” says the little woman, “ I 
would n’t join in it for forty thousand million 
pound.” 

The rifle lads again, faces set determinedly, 
marching up the deck with steady and definite 
stride. Four movements, and they are down on 


270 A Son of the State 

one knee preparing to receive the enemy. This 
time the enemy is no fictitious enemy, for the 
doors of the foc’sle being thrown open, out rush 
shrieking noisy warriors, who from their language 
and the fact that they are carrying long poles in- 
stead of firearms are clearly negro aborigines of the 
district, and these shout u Alla-bulla-wulla ” in a 
very desperate way, throwing themselves on their 
opponents under the foolish impression that some- 
thing can be done to a solid square of British sailors. 
A bugle call and the square rises, moves, and tak- 
ing the offensive, presses the mistaken aborigines 
back, but these still cry u Alla-bulla-wulla ” (being 
apparently of a race with limited conversational 
powers), and break up the detachment, so that a 
hand-to-hand struggle ensues where every man 
carries his life in peril, and every man remembers 
the country that gave him birth. The British are 
pulled together again ; they form by command into 
two lines, these two lines stretching well across the 
field of operations press the enemy slowly but de- 
terminedly back. Changing its tactics, the enemy 
now shout, u Wulla-bulla-alla, ,, but even this re- 
versal of the original battle-cry proves useless, and 
the final struggle is stopped (because, in point of 
fact, one or two sets are beginning to fight in real 
earnest) by the bugle-call to retreat. Victory 


A Son of the State 271 

gained, the British sailors re-form, and singing exul- 
tant music to — 

“ A life on the ocean wave, 

A life on the stormy deep. 

Where the billowy waters wave, 

And the stars their vigil keep," 

they march round and pass the saluting point. 

“ Not at all bad,” says the captain. “ Eh, Mr. 
Waltham ? Considering.” 

u Not at all bad, sir,” replies the chief officer, 
u considering.” 

Robert escorted his little visitor down to tea, a 
few of his intimate chums forming a circle round 
her in order to prevent the incursion of mere curi- 
osity. Miss Threepenny, finding herself the object 
and centre of all this consideration, chattered away 
over her tea and bread and butter, telling the circle 
a few of her best repartees, with many a u Oh, I 
says,” and w What ! she says ; ” each recital finish- 
ing triumphantly with the sentence, u And that ’s 
all they get for trying to score off me.” The small 
woman being swung down to the lower deck, pro- 
fessed herself much shocked at seeing the slung-up 
hammocks, declaring that eviction from her model 
dwellings would ensue if this were known, and 
covering her face with her tiny hands in a way that 
amused the lads very much. Before leaving she 


272 A Son of the State 

ascertained the whereabouts of Robert’s locker, and 
finding the white box with Robert’s number painted 
atop, slipped inside an envelope containing a silver 
coin of enormous proportions. On the upper deck 
again, Robert Lancaster feeling it politic to do 
everything possible in order to give Miss Three- 
penny subject-matter for conversation on her re- 
turn to Trixie, went up to the foc’sle rigging to the 
foretop, and was down again before she had time to 
beg of him to be careful, following this up by acts 
of a similarly perilous nature. 

“ How in the world I shall find breath enough 
to tell ’em all about you,” she said distractedly, 
u goodness only knows.” 

“ Don’t forget to mention,” said Robert, u that 
I ’m going to be made a chief petty officer next 
week.” 

w And how long did you say it ’d be before you 
left ? ” 

“ I sha’n’t stay long,” he said importantly. 
“They want chaps in the Royal Navy, and I’m 
five foot one already.” 

u They ’ave made a man of you, Bobbie,” de- 
clared the little woman, looking up at him admir- 
ingly. w Nobody ’d think, to look at you now, that 
it was only a few years ago you was nothing 
or less than — ” 


more 


A Son of the State 


273 

“Just put your ’and on my arm,” interrupted 
Robert, rather hastily. “ Above the elbow, I mean. 
Now then ! ” He drew his arm up slowly, and 
the muscles stood out hard and rigid. 

“ You ’re nothing more nor less,” said Miss 
Threepenny, “ than what they call in books a 
Herkools. And — and you ’ve quite made up 
your mind to be a sailor, Bobbie.” 

“ Of her Majesty’s Navy,” said Bobbie, proudly. 
“ There ’s the signal for you to be off.” 

The little woman having found her fishing net, 
now empty but for the current number of “ The 
Upper Ten Novelette,” went carefully. Her 
sailor hat was slightly awry, and detecting this by 
a casual glance at some polished brass, she adjusted 
it, and pulled her cape straight. The circle of 
defending boys conducted her to the side of the 
ship ; saw her safely down the slippery gangway 
ladder to the gig. 

“ I sha’n’t kiss you, me dear,” she whispered to 
Robert, “ because they ’d only guy you about it 
afterwards.” 

“ Give my love to ’em in Pimlico Walk,” said 
Robert shyly, as he lifted her into the boat. 

“ I shall keep some of it for meself,” said the 
little woman, archly. She spoke to the officer at 
the stern of the boat. “ Which side of the boat 
18 


274 


A Son of the State 


shall I sit, mister ? ” The officer replied that it 
could not possibly matter. “ Oh, well,” she said 
resignedly, u if it overbalances don’t blame me. 
Goo’-bye, Bobbie.” 

“ Goo’-bye,” cried Bobbie. 

u Be a good boy,” called out the little woman in 
the rocking gig. 

M A good what ? ” 

“ A good man, I mean,” she shouted apologet- 
ically. 

“ That ’s better.” 

w Don’t forget,” cried the little woman, putting 
one hand to the side of her mouth — u oh, dear ! 
how this boat does bob about ! — don’t forget that 
we mean to be proud of you.” 

w I sha’n’t forget,” he promised. 

And, indeed, Robert Lancaster kept this in his 
memory. 


A Son of the State 


275 


CHAPTER XV 


IFE on the JVestmouth being too exacting to 



permit one to count the hours, Robert Lan- 
caster came to the end of his training there with 
a sudden jerk that almost astonished him. Fifty- 
lads were taken off the books, of whom he found 
himself to be one; some of them, deciding. for the 
merchant service, were despatched to the Home at 
Limehouse for that purpose; others, qualified in 
regard to measurement and desires, only waited for 
the brigantine to arrive for their names to be taken 
off the Watch Bill, and to resign their numbers to 
other lads. The old captain, meeting Robert on 
the upper deck, honoured him with five minutes’ 
conversation, giving him a word of counsel, and 
directing him to give the old ship a call whenever 
the chance to do so offered. 

“ Don’t forget, my lad, that now your oppor- 
tunity is coming to show us all that the trouble 
and money you have cost have been well laid 


out.” 


“ Yes, sir ! * 


276 A Son of the State 

“ Keep yourself straight ; be obedient to your 
officers, remember that the Navy has a fine, a glori- 
ous reputation, which you must help to keep up.” 

“ Yes, sir ! ” 

u Above all, be a credit to the Westmouth , and 
see that we have good news of you. That will 
do.” 

u Pardon, sir. Any objection to my having a 
day in London Tore I join the — ” 

w To visit friends ? ” 

a Yes, sir.” 

M If you please,” said the old captain, with his 
sharp air of courtesy. 

See Robert Lancaster clearing his locker down 
on the lower deck and distributing souvenirs to his 
colleagues ; a part of the inside of a watch to one ; 
a copy of “ Kidnapped ” to another ; several pieces 
of rare old string to the boy from Poplar, now, 
under the stress of Westmouth discipline, a con- 
tented, optimistic lad. See Robert Lancaster going 
off in the gig with six shillings tied in his hand- 
kerchief, being part of the prize for swimming 
gained by him at the last competition, and taking 
train at the small station for Fenchurch Street. 
See him arriving near the old neighbourhood and 
walking with a fine, sailor-like roll in his wide 
trousers and open-necked jacket towards Pimlico 


A Son of the State 277 

Walk, in which thoroughfare, now it seemed to 
him more preposterously narrow than ever, children 
stopped the playing of tipcat to stare at him open- 
mouthed, and women going into miniature shops 
arrested themselves in order to ascertain, from feel- 
ings of vague curiosity, his destination. 

“No one about ? ” he asked in the doorway of 
Mrs. Bell’s millinery establishment. The small 
window was still set out with magnificent feathered 
hats, but there appeared to be a suggestion of good 
taste in the arrangement that had in the old days 
been absent. 

M Yes,” said a little girl sitting on a high chair 
behind the counter, u there ’s me.” 

u No one else? ” 

“Who else d’you want?” asked the girl, cau- 
tiously. 

“ Is n’t Mrs. Bell about ? ” 

“ She ’s been bedridden for the last six months, 
if that ’s what you call being about.” 

“ And Trixie ? ” 

“ You mean Miss Bell ? ” 

w Miss Bell, then.” 

The girl stepped from the stool, and went to 
the foot of the stairs. 

“ Shawp ! ” she cried. She returned at once to 
the counter with a manner slightly less defensive. 


278 A Son of the State 

u She sits upstairs and reads to the old gel in the 
middle of the day, and I ’m in charge down ’ere. 
When she comes down I go up, see ? It don’t 
do to leave the place without someone.” 

There was a rustle on the lower stairs. 

u Bobbie ! ” A delighted exclamation. 

“ ’Ullo, Trix,” he said nervously. “How’s 
the world using you ? ” 

“ ’Ave n’t you grown ? ” 

“ You’ve been at that game, too. I s’pose I 
was about the last person that was in your mind.” 

“Yes,” said Trixie Bell, “the very last. Me 
and mother were just then talking about you up- 
stairs. Is n’t your face brown, too ? ” 

“ Yours is n’t brown,” said Robert, with a clumsy 
attempt at compliment, “ but it ’s got every other 
good quality.” 

“ ’Tilderann,” commanded Trixie Bell, insist- 
ently, “ go upstairs and sit with mother at once, 
and tell her that Mr. Lancaster has called.” The 
little girl slid from the high stool again and disap- 
peared reluctantly. “Up the stairs, I said,” re- 
marked Trixie, looking round the corner after her, 
“ I did n’t ask you to wait on the second step 
listening.” 

Miss Bell returned demurely to the inner side 
of the counter. 


A Son of the State 279 

“ Girls,” she said, with an air of maturity, 
u want a lot of looking after.” 

“ Who looks after you ? ” asked Bobbie, leaning 
over the counter. 

“Oh, I can take care of myself.” 

“ For one day, at any rate, I ’m going to take 
care of you. Give me a kiss.” 

“ Bobbie ! People can see through the shop 
window.” 

“ You won’t give me a kiss ? ” 

“There’s a time,” said the pleasant-faced young 
woman, with great preciseness, “and a place for 
everything, and this is neither the time nor — ” 

One advantage of being trained as a British 
sailor is that you can vault over a counter and 
jump back again before anyone has time to pro- 
test. 

“You’ll make me cross,” said Trixie, with 
great confusion and delight. 

“ Give it back to me, then,” suggested Robert. 

“ I fancy I see myself doing that,” said Trixie, 
ironically. 

“ I ’ve fancied it a lot of times,” remarked Rob- 
ert. “ Now it seems to me we ’ve arrived at what 
you may call reality.” 

“ Of course,” said Trixie, leaning on the counter 
and keeping one eye on the window, “ it is n’t ex- 


28 o 


A Son of the State 


actly as though we were strangers, is it ? What I 
mean to say is, we ’ve known each other, Bobbie, 
for a long time, and you ’ll be seventeen next 
birthday — ” 

“ Don’t argue,” said Robert. “ Do what I ask 
you.” 

“ It ’ll ’ave to be a very little one,” said Miss 
Bell, seriously. And leaned forward. 

“Thanks,” said Robert. “That’s what I’ve 
been looking forward to.” 

“ Now, you must give up all this nonsense,” 
declared Trixie, with a sage air, and glancing at 
herself in the panel looking-glass, “ and behave. 
Will you come upstairs and see mother ? ” 

“ I thought p’raps you and me might go out 
this afternoon for a bit of a outing. I ’ve got to 
rejoin my ship this evening, and I sha’n’t have 
many chances of seeing you when I ’m down at 
Plymouth.” 

“There’s something in that,” admitted Trixie. 
“ I ’ll see if I can get a lady friend of mine from 
Pitfield Street to look in for a few hours.” She 
raised her voice and called at the foot of the stairs. 
“ ’Tilderann ! Come down this minute.” 

The girl obeyed, remarking in a grumbling un- 
dertone that the place was a perfect treadmill, and 
that for her part she envied the folk in Pentonville ; 


A Son of the State 


281 


she went to the doorway and reproved two infants 
outside for breathing on the glass, in good, well- 
chosen, and effective terms. 

u Don’t put your arm round my waist, Bobbie,” 
whispered Trixie, as they went up the dim, narrow 
staircase. u Besides, there ’s a buckle on my belt. 
Mother, ’ere ’s a gentleman come to call on you.” 

Mrs. Bell, raising her head from the white pil- 
low, gave a chuckle of recognition. Robert, with 
his cap off, made his way round the bedstead, which 
seemed nearly to fill the room, but not quite, and 
shook hands with the large invalid. 

“ My poor old ’ead,” she remarked jovially, 
a gets in such a ftuster, sometimes, that I can’t 
remember nothing, and when the gel said Mr. Lan- 
caster was in the shop it took me minutes to think 
who she meant. D’ you think Trixie’s growed ? ” 

“ Growed up and growed ’and some,” said Rob- 
ert. Mrs. Bell gave a sigh of content, closing her 
eyes for a moment. ct And how are you, ma’am ? 
On the mend, I ’ope.” 

u Oh,” said Adrs. Bell, opening her eyes and 
speaking loudly, “ I ’ve got nothing to complain 
of.” She lowered her voice, and added confiden- 
tially, so that Trixie should not hear, “May pop 
off at any moment.” 

Trixie, having explained the proposal that Robert 


282 


A Son of the State 


had made, suggested that she should go round 
now to engage the services of the millinery friend 
in Pitfield Street. Her mother agreed cheerfully. 

u Of course,” said the old lady, in a very loud 
tone, “ I ’ve been used to a active life, and 
naturally enough it goes somewhat against the 
grain for me to be kep’ in one room for monce 
and monce. Otherwise I feel as well — ” Trixie 
went out of the room, closing the door, and Mrs. 
Bell stopped and winked solemnly. u It ’d never 
do to let her know the truth,” she whispered. cc I 
always like to pretend before her I ’m getting 
better. It ’s a rare game sometimes the dodges I 
’ave to get up to so that she should n’t know how 
bad I am.” 

u Trixie is n’t a bad sort,” remarked Robert. 

“ She ’s my daughter,” said Mrs. Bell. 

Before that excellent young lady returned poor 
Mrs. Bell and Robert had a long, confidential talk. 
The cheerful old lady regretted that her time had 
arrived before Trixie had become a grown woman, 
but this regret was tempered by confidence in her 
daughter, and by a promise which had been given 
by Miss Threepenny to come and live with Trixie 
when all was over. There breathed pride in the 
statement that her doctor from New North Road 
could find no English name for her illness, and 


A Son of the State 283 

had been compelled to fall back on the Latin 
tongue to give it title ; Mrs. Bell’s old head 
trembled with gratification as she told Robert of 
this. 

u D’ you mind ’olding my ’and, Bobbie ? ” 
she asked, interrupting herself. “ I feel so 
much more contented somehow when someone ’s 
’olding me ’and. Thanks ! As I was telling 
you — ” 

The doctor had some time since recommended 
that she should be taken away to the seaside, a 
procedure which might prolong her life for a few 
months, but the old lady congratulated herself 
upon having had the shrewdness to reply that 
Hoxton was as good a place to die in as any other, 
and that she had not been saving money all her 
life in order to spend it foolishly on herself at the 
end. The good soul seemed quite happy ; every- 
body, she said, was very kind to her, and Trixie, 
who in former days had been somewhat masterful 
towards her, now waited on her “ hand and foot.” 
Mrs. Bell declared that she only wished everybody 
could be looked after at the end of all as effectively. 
Trixie, returning with her substitute, came up- 
stairs in a hat which Robert, on being appealed to 
for an opinion, declared looked like ten thousand 
a year, and they said good-bye to Mrs. Bell, 


284 A Son of the State 

Trixie promising to send up ’Tilderann and to 
return herself at the earliest possible hour. 

u Don’t ’urry,” said the old lady. “ And, 
Bobbie! Come back one moment. Trixie, you 
go down.” Robert obeyed. u I sha’n’t be see- 
ing you again,” said the old lady, brightly. u If 
so be as I should meet your poor mother, I shall 
tell her what a fine lad you ’ve growed to.” Robert 
bent and kissed the large white face. “ Be good, 
won’t you,” she whispered brokenly, “ to her ? ” 

u You can make yourself quite sure about that, 
ma’am,” said Robert. 

Before going west on this sunny afternoon, the 
young lady insisted that Robert should accompany 
her for a short tour through certain streets in 
Hoxton, where her lady acquaintances resided, 
which same young women told each other after- 
wards that they had not realised what the word 
pride really meant until seeing Trixie with her 
young man. They looked at Ely Place from the 
dwarf posts at the Kingsland Road end, where 
towzled-hair, half-dressed, grubby babies played 
games with mud and swore at one another, but 
the two agreed that they had no desire to go 
through the Place. One more girl acquaintance 
in a Hoxton street shop in whose sight Robert 
had to be paraded, and then the two young people, 


A Son of the State 285 

walking down into Old Street, took a tram for 
Bloomsbury. 

“You pay for yourself,” said Trixie Bell, 
definitely, “ I ’ll pay for myself.” 

“ No fear,” protested Robert, “ I pay for both 
to-day. This is my bean-feast.” 

“ Then I go no further,” declared the young 
woman. “ Agree to that, Bobbie, or down the 
steps I go.” 

“ You are obstinate,” said Robert. “ I never 
saw such a one for ’aving her own way.” 

“ Not much use having anybody else’s way,” 
she said. “ Bloomsbury, one,” she said to the 
conductor. 

The principle thus definitely laid down being 
adhered to during the afternoon, Robert found 
himself unable in consequence to assume the air 
of condescension and patronage that he had prom- 
ised to wear; indeed, Miss Bell took the entire 
management of the afternoon into her own hands, 
with a quaint air of decision which surprised 
Robert and interested him, so that when at the 
end of the tram line she said, “ Regent’s Park,” 
it was to Regent’s Park they went ; on Robert in 
his reckless way suggesting a ’bus, she said, “ Walk, 
it ’s no distance,” and that was the mode of trans- 
port adopted. In Regent’s Park they sat on chairs 


286 


A Son of the State 


near to sweet-smelling oval bouquets of flowers, 
watching the white-sashed nursemaids and the 
children, and whilst Robert (to Trixie’s content) 
smoked a large, important cigar, she chattered away 
about her plans for the future. Trixie revived 
the old ambition of a milliner’s establishment 
with French words in white letters on the window, 
in some position not too far distant from Pimlico 
Walk, so that old customers should be preserved, 
whilst new ones were being caught ; Robert 
watched her admiringly as she sketched this mag- 
nificent project, noting the decision of her chin 
and the flush of interest on her attractive face. 
The cigar finished, or nearly finished (for Robert 
was not yet a confirmed smoker), they walked 
arm-in-arm through the gates to the upper portion 
of the park, where there were sheep to be looked 
at, and near to the fountain, small debating socie- 
ties, that seemed to grow on the grass in the style 
of mushrooms, and were made up of grubby men, 
arguing, as it seemed, on every topic of which 
they were ignorant, with here a reference to John 
Stuart Mill, and there satire at the expense of 
Apostles. Near to one of these groups Robert 
and Trixie stopped. 

“ As for your so-galled Queen, my goot Anglish 
friends,” a foreign gentleman with no collar 


A Son of the State 287 

shouted in the centre of the mushroom, u it don’t 
dake me long times to gif you my obinion about 
her and all her plooming Gofernment.” 

“ Now you ’re beggin’ the question,” said his 
opponent. u Let ’s keep to the point at issue. If 
you ’ve ever read Plito, you would have been 
aware that — ” 

w I ’m not dalkin’ about Blato,” said the for- 
eigner, with excited gesture. “ I ’m dalkin’ about 
the bresent day and the stupid, foolish idea that 
you Anglish are a free nation. My obinion of 
your Queen, my fellow, is simply these. She ’s — ” 

Not quite clear what the foreign gentleman 
wanted to say, and impossible to hear what he 
did say, for at that moment a sailor lad edged his 
way through the crowd, two brown hands seized 
the neck of his collarless shirt, and at once the two 
— Robert and the foreign critic — were running 
away pell-mell to Gloucester Gate, the foreigner 
forced to go at a good pace despite his struggles, 
and being thrown eventually well into the roadway 
outside the park. Robert returned to Trixie a 
little heated with the run ; Trixie’s blue dotted 
blouse danced with delight and admiration. 

“ That ’ll learn him,” said Robert, darkly. 

In the Zoological Gardens they walked through 
the long house where lions and tigers lodge, and 


288 


A Son of the State 


Robert kissed Trixie in full sight of a very sulky 
old lion, who had a bed-sitting room near to the 
end, making the lion use an exclamation of annoy- 
ance and envy that cannot well be printed. Then 
they went out into the gardens to see long, thin, 
ridiculous legs with birds perched riskily atop, and 
had a long conversation with one of the highly- 
coloured parrots, who were all talking at once, and 
seemed, like the debaters outside, to be denouncing 
somebody, and in similarly raucous voices. 

“ At tea, Bobbie,” said Trixie, with a touch of 
her decisive manner, “ I want to talk to you.” 

u You Ve been doing that the last hour or two,” 
he said good-temperedly. 

u Ah, but I mean seriously,” she said. 

At tea on the gravelled space near to the sleepy 
owls Robert encountered friends whose presence 
deferred the weighty talk, friends in the person of 
the angel from Folkestone, now clearly Mrs. Cus- 
toms Officer, her husband and a large-eyed aston- 
ished baby in a white beef-eater hat. The angel 
came over from her table on recognising Robert, 
and declared that the news of this meeting would 
do poor uncle more good than all the embrocation 
in the world. 

w Allow me,” said Robert, with importance, 
“ to introduce my ” — he coughed — “fiancee” 


A Son of the State 289 

Trixie on this introduction assumed a distant 
manner, and sat alone with a reticent air, while 
Robert went over to speak to long Mr. Customs, 
and to dance the amazed infant high into the air. 
The angel had grown very matronly ; the Customs 
seemed to be well under her control, insomuch 
that he never commenced a sentence without 
finding himself instantly arrested and brushed 
aside by his wife. On Robert rallying the angel 
on this, the angel laughed good-humouredly, de- 
claring that it was well for one or the other to be 
master, and prophesying that some day Robert 
would find this out for himself, whereupon Robert 
insisted that women must not be too tyrannical, and 
endeavoured to enlist the Customs on his side in the 
argument, but the Customs shook his head vaguely 
(being it seemed with no grievance to complain of), 
and begged not to be dragged into the discussion. 

“ What name was it you called me just now ? ” 
demanded Trixie, when he had returned to her. 
Robert explained, and Trixie’s young forehead 
cleared. u That reminds me,” she said, resting 
one small shoe on the bar of Robert’s chair, u I 
want to talk sense now.” 

“ Why?” 

“ I want you,” she said slowly and carefully, 
w to promise me — ” 


19 


290 A Son of the State 

u I ’ll promise anything you like.” 

“To promise me that you’ll give up all idea 
of being a sailor, and take up some occupation 
on land.” 

Robert shifted his chair, and Trixie’s foot slipped 
to the gravel. He re-tied his lanyard with great 
particularity, humming a tune. Trixie, fearful of 
the reply, drew a heart with the ferrule of her 
parasol on the gravel. 

u Not me ! ” he said decidedly. 

The heart on the gravel found itself rubbed out 
sharply and rendered illegible. 

“ You think it over, dear,” said Trixie Bell. 

“ I sha’n’t think it over,” replied Robert Lancas- 
ter, sturdily. “ It ’d be a mean trick to do, after all 
they ’ve spent on my training.” 

“ I don’t see how it would affect them.” 

“ I ’m not going to do it, Trixie.” 

“ So long as you earn a honest living — ” 

w Look ’ere,” burst out Robert, impetuously, w I 
can’t argue with girls. My mind ’s quite made up, 
and I ’m not going to alter it.” 

w That means, then,” said Miss Bell, swallowing 
something, “ that you don’t care for me.” 

“ It don’t mean anything of the kind,” protested 
Robert. u It ’s a question of duty.” 

“You ’d easily get a good berth on shore,” she 


A Son of the State 


291 

argued, “ and earn good money, and then we could 
see each other pretty of’en. As it is, I may not 
see you from one year’s end to the other.” 

“Absence makes the ’eart grow fonder.” 

“Yes,” said the young woman, pointedly, “in 
books.” 

“ Well,” remarked Robert, after a pause, “ now 
that we ’ve cleared up this argument, ’ave some 
more tea.” 

“ No, thank you,” said Trixie, with reserve. “ I 
think I must be getting along ’ome. Looks as 
though we shall ’ave a shower presently, I think.” 

“Trixie,” he said, trying to take her hand, 
“ don’t be a young silly.” 

“After that complimentary remark,” she said, 
rising, “ it ’s most certainly time for me to be off. 
To be told in the Zoo, above all places in the 
world, that I ’m a silly — ” 

“ I did n’t say you was a silly,” urged Robert, 
with great perturbation, “ I asked you not to go and 
be one. Do stop, and let ’s be good friends the 
same like — ” 

He was following the indignant young woman, 
when the waiter interposed, offering a delicate hint 
to the effect that his services were usually deemed 
worthy of reward ; by the time Robert had found 
threepence Trixie had disappeared in the direction 


292 A Son of the State 

of the camels. Other visitors watched the hurried, 
distracted efforts of the scarlet-faced sailor lad on 
his erratic voyage of discovery with as much inter- 
est as though he had been an escaped resident of 
the Gardens. 

A gloomy young man strode down Great Port- 
land Street an hour later, and, losing his way more 
than once, because he was too much annoyed to 
speak to policemen, found himself at last in Hol- 
born and eventually in Fetter Lane. On the two 
middle-aged ladies in the shop saying that Mr. 
Myddleton West was not in, and had indeed re- 
moved, Robert, muttering that this was just like 
his luck, turned away with a decision to return to 
Grays some two hours earlier than he had in- 
tended. On board the Westmouth one was at any 
rate free from illogical young women ; free also 
from the irritating risk of taking wrong turnings. 
A swift hysterical shower of rain started. 

“ Beg pardon, sir,” he said gruffly. 

“ My fault,” remarked the man with whom he 
had come in collision. “ I ought riot to hold my 
open umbrella in front of me.” 

“ Mr. West, I believe, sir.” 

“Young Hoxton ! ” 

“ That ’s me, sir.” 

w You look quite a man,” said Myddleton 


A Son of the State 


2 93 

West, genially. u Come back to my office, and 
talk.” 

“You look ten years younger, sir, than when 
I see you last.” 

u I am ten years younger,” said West. “ On 
second thoughts we might eat. Do you feel like 
a good square meal ? ” 

u I ’m off me feed just for the present. Had 
rather a whack in the eye this afternoon.” 

cc That ’s only a prelude to good luck,” said 
Myddleton West, with new optimism. He seemed 
to be taking cheerful views of the world ; appeared 
brighter than in the old days, and the lad felt in- 
clined to resent it. “ Providence is very fair in a 
general way.” 

Turning into a dim, insignificant passage off 
Fleet Street, they found a doorway, as if by acci- 
dent, which led them (also, as it seemed, by a 
series of misadventures) to a square old-fashioned 
dining-room of the early Victorian type. Several 
men were seated at the wooden tables eating ; two 
or three Americans with note-books were being 
supplied by one of the old waiters with a quantity 
of new and incorrect information about the old 
eating-house, enlivened by rare anecdotes of celeb- 
rities. In five minutes there was set before West 
and Robert Lancaster a small mountain made up 


294 A Son of the State 

of admirable strata of pigeons, of oysters, and of 
steak. Robert began by gazing absently at the 
dish before him, and thinking about Trixie; the 
smell of appetizing food changed his thoughts, and 
he presently set to with admirable appetite. 

u My great news can easily be told,” said Myd- 
dleton West across the table. W I was married last 
week.” 

w Good business ! ” remarked Robert. u Who 
is the lady, sir ? ” 

“ There is but one.” 
u But I thought she M decided — ” 

“They never do that,” remarked West. 
w She used to like talking about you, sir, to me 
when I was in the hospital. I always thought it 
would ’appen some day.” 

u I 'm ordered out to some God-forsaken place 
in Siberia,” said Myddleton West. “They are 
making a new railway, and there 's a lot of excite- 
ment, I believe. Miss Margaret was good enough 
to insist upon marrying me, before I went. When 
I come back my wife will give up her nursing busi- 
ness and we are going to settle down and enjoy life.” 

“ Good deal to be said for the old fashions,” said 
Robert, wisely. “ Independence is all very well, 
but I don't like to see it carried too far. Not with 
the ladies, at any rate,” he added. 


A Son of the State 


295 

u Tell me all about yourself,” urged Myddleton 
West. ct My wife will be anxious to hear. My 
wife,” West seemed proud to repeat these two 
words, u was always interested in you.” 

Robert felt distinctly better when he had come 
out into Fleet Street and had said a respectful 
good-bye to Myddleton West ; this partly because 
of the excellent meal and partly because of the 
friendly chat. The shower had finished and he 
walked East. Not until he had nearly reached Fen- 
church Street, with only five minutes to wait for 
his train, did he remember that he had a high im- 
portant grievance which careful attention would, 
as he knew, nurture into lasting remorse. He 
went slowly up the stairs of the station, and think- 
ing with a desolate sigh of women in general and 
of Miss Beatrice Bell in particular. At the top of 
the staircase he caught sight (his look being down- 
cast) of Miss Threepenny. 

“Well, you’re a nice young gentleman,” said 
the little woman, satirically, ct I don’t think. 
Fancy coming to London and not waiting to see 
me. This,” added the mite, with a twinkle in her 
bright bead-like eyes, w is what you call constancy, 
I s’pose.” 

Cl There ’s no such thing as constancy,” growled 
Robert. w Not in this world, at any rate.” 


296 A Son of the State 

“ Shows what you know about it,” declared the 
little woman. “ Come over ’ere; I ’ve a friend I 
want to interduce you to.” 

“ I ’ve only got five minutes before my train 
goes.” 

u Five minutes is ample. Come along.” 

To the side of the bookstall Miss Threepenny 
convoyed Robert ; once in harbour there, bade him 
on no account to stir, and pufiing off like a busy 
little tug to the waiting-room, returned immediately 
with that trim yacht Trixie Bell in tow, whom she 
also brought to anchor at the side of the bookstall. 

“ I ’ll go and see what platform your train starts 
from,” then cried the little tug. 

“ Bobbie,” said the well-appointed yacht, peni- 
tently, to the man-of war, “ I ’m — I’m so sorry 
if I went and made myself look like a stupid this 
afternoon.” 

“Trixie,” said the man-of-war, coming danger- 
ously close to the side of the neat craft, “ if any- 
body ’s to blame, it ’s me. Only — ” 

“We shall quarrel again, dear,” said Trixie Bell, 
sedately, “if you talk like that. You’re quite 
right in what you ’ve made up your mind to do, 
and I respect you all the more for it, and if you ’re 
away ten seconds or if you ’re away ten years, I 
shall always be the same and — ” 


A Son of the State 297 

The man-of war saluted with so much prompti- 
tude that a newspaper boy in the bookstall, safe in 
ambush behind an illustrated journal, made ventrilo- 
quial comment. Miss Threepenny hurried up. 

u Now run, Bobbie, ” said the tiny woman, 
breathlessly. “ You 'll just catch it, and — good 
luck to you ! ” 

He caught the train as it moved out of the 
station, and jumped into a third-class compartment. 
When he had regained his breath he leaned his bare 
head delightedly out of the window to enjoy the 
cool air that had come after the shower. 

u Upon my word,” he said to Stepney Station, 
with some astonishment, “ I begin to think that I 
don't half understand women.” 

From this remark it will be seen that Robert 
Lancaster, formerly child of the State, and shortly 
to enter the service of his great parent, was now 
no longer very young. Wherefore it is here that 
one may prepare to take leave of him. 


298 A Son of the State 


CHAPTER XVI 



HE new shop which bore the name of 


Miss Beatrice Bell stood so far up the 
Kingsland Road, beyond the canal, that you might 
have said it was in Dalston, and none would have 
dared offer contradiction. A happy situation, in 
that the shop found itself able to at once keep 
touch with the superior classes of Hoxton and 
with the middle classes of Dalston ; a distinction 
being made in the two windows, so that Hoxton 
lady clients on entering turned instinctively to the 
left counter, whilst those from Dalston turned to 
the right. Beatrice Bell, grown to a tall, self- 
possessed young woman, still in slight mourning 
for her mother, had the nightly companionship of 
little Miss Threepenny, and assistance by day from 
the perky ’Tilderann, whose enthusiasm for the 
business was equalled by her intolerance of any- 
thing likely to interfere with achievement of these 
ends : her mistress’s habit of buying evening news- 
papers whenever the placards shouted anything about 
the Delar expedition, of making customers wait 


A Son of the State 299 

while she read the telegraphic accounts nervously, 
constituted a weakness that made ’Tilderann groan. 
But for these occasional lapses Beatrice Bell had 
become a shrewd, business-like woman, not only 
reaching the high standard set by her assistant, but 
sometimes exceeding it, and extorting from that 
young woman gracious compliment. It was indeed 
worth watching to see and hear Miss Bell deal with 
some lady of Hoxton who, having ideas of her own 
in regard to a new hat, insisted upon explaining 
them in detail. The young proprietress of the 
establishment would listen with perfect calm whilst 
the client described the kind of hat which repre- 
sented her heart’s desire ; when she had finished, 
Miss Bell would say icily, “ I quite understand 
what you mean, but,” here a slight shrug of the 
shoulders, “they are no longer worn.” Upon 
which the lady customer could only ejaculate a 
confused and abashed “ Ho ! ” and request that 
something that was being worn should be taken 
from the window and exhibited to her. 

Beatrice Bell, her hands clasped behind her, 
taking the air at the doorway of her shop, and 
bowing to acquaintances in the swift crowd of 
young women hurrying northward to their tea, 
glanced up and down the busy road with its sailing 
trams and jerking ’busses. The hour was seven j 


3 °° 


A Son of the State 


the sky still light with a juvenile moon that seemed, 
with the impatience of youth, to have come out 
too early. Dashing young blades of shopkeepers, 
also taking the air at their doorways, caught sight 
of the white-speckled blouse, and bowed to her, 
and noting with pain her distant acknowledgment, 
declared to each other that Miss Bell would stand 
an infinitely better chance of getting married were 
she less reserved in manner, a drawback which had 
already cheated her of more than one invitation to 
Epping Forest on early-closing day. u For,” said 
Mr. Libbis, the tobacconist, to his friend at the 
second-hand shop, u she may be as ’aughty as she 
likes, but after all, mind you, she ’s only a girl.” 

Opposite, a boy pasted on the boards outside 
the newspaper shop a new placard : “ Brave con- 
duct at Delar.” She ran across the road to buy a 
copy of the newspaper; before she returned a cus- 
tomer came to the Hoxton side of the shop 
demanding something stylish at one-and-eleven. 
’Tilderann fenced with her, pending the return 
of her mistress. 

w It occurred to me, looking in the glass,” said 
the woman, confidentially, u that I wanted smart- 
enin’ up. It may be only me fancy, but it struck 
me I was beginning to look old. What d’ you 
think ? ” 


A Son of the State 


30 x 


w Depends what you call old,” replied ’Tilder- 
ann. “ Sure you can’t run to more than one-and- 
eleven ? ” 

“ Eight year ago, or a trifle more,” said the 
woman, reminiscently, cc I was as light-’earted a 
young woman as you ’d ’ave found in all ’Oxton, 
if you ’d searched for a month. I was really the 
rarest one for making jokes that you ever ’eard of 
before my ’usband, Bat Miller, had to go away.” 

“ Emigrated ? ” asked ’Tilderann, glancing be- 
tween the hats and bonnets for her mistress. 

u He were away,” said Mrs. Miller, evasively, 
“ for a matter of four or five year. And when I 
went to meet him, believe me or not, he was as 
stand-offish in his manner as he could be.” 

u That ’s like ’em,” said ’Tilderann. u These 
bonnets at four-and-three are all the go just now.” 

“ Quite ’igh and mighty, if you please,” went 
on Mrs. Miller, aggrievedly. “And I firmly 
believe that if I had n’t had on my best mantle 
he ’d have gone off again, goodness knows where. 
As it was, I persuaded him to settle down, and 
we ’ve got on as well as can be expected ; only 
that now and again, when we have a few words, 
he says something very satirical about the old 
days in Ely Place.” 

“ Here she is ! ” said ’Tilderann. u Come on, 


302 A Son of the State 

miss ! ’Ere ’s a customer been waiting for 
howers.” 

“ Sorry,” remarked Beatrice Bell, panting. Her 
pretty face was crimson with excitement; she 
hugged a pink halfpenny journal to her breast. 

u Something at about one-and-eleven, miss,” 
said Mrs. Miller, respectfully. u Not too quiet 
and not too loud, and something that ’ll suit my 
features.” 

Miss Bell, trembling oddly, went up the wooden 
steps and brought down a box containing black 
hats. 

“ Anything special, miss, in the evening 
paper ? ” asked Mrs. Bat Miller, ingratiatingly. 

“ Yes,” said Beatrice, panting. 

M I of’en ’ave a look at the playcards,” said Mrs. 
Miller; “they give me about as much information 
as I want. Are these the newest shape in this 
box ? ” 

“Look at the corner of the box,” said Miss 
Bell, endeavouring to regain her usual com- 
posure. “ That ’ll tell you, c Chapeaux de 
Paris.’ ” 

“ Sounds all right,” agreed Mrs. Miller. “ I 
was saying to your young lady here that I ’ve been 
making up my mind to take more trouble about 
me personal appearance. Otherwise, it’s likely 


A Son of the State 


303 


enough Miller ’ll be getting tired of me again, and 
then there ’ll be more trouble. How would you 
advise me to have this trimmed, miss, if it is n’t 
troubling you too much ? ” 

Beatrice Bell gave advice in a hurried way, as 
though pressed with more urgent affairs, and anx- 
ious to see her customer depart. Mrs. Miller did 
go, after reciting some more of her personal his- 
tory; when she had gone Miss Bell took the even- 
ing paper from her waist-belt and sat down behind 
the counter. She had scarcely done so when the 
bell of the door rang and a tall young woman came 
in, dressed in a tailor-made costume, which caused 
’Tilderann to gasp with admiration. 

“ Will you,” she said pleasantly to that amazed 
girl, “ give the driver this half-crown and tell him 
not to wait ? ” She turned brightly to the young 
proprietress. u You are Miss Bell, are you not? 
My name is Mrs. Myddleton West.” 

u One moment,” said Miss Bell, trembling, u till 
the girl comes back, and we ’ll go into the shop 
parlour.” 

“ You have read the evening paper, I see.” 

“ I ’ve got it certainly, ma’am,” replied the agi- 
tated young woman, u but as to reading it, why, 
my eyes get so full the moment I begin that I 
can’t get on with it very fast.” 


3°4 


A Son of the State 


“ I have a letter from my dear husband,” said 
Mrs. Myddleton West, proudly, “ from my dear 
husband giving fuller particulars.” 

“ And you ’ve come straight here ? ” 

’Tilderann returning, flushed with victory be- 
cause she had compounded with the cabman for 
two shillings and twopence, and therefore able to 
refund the sum of fourpence, was commanded to 
look after the shop, and Miss Bell conducted her 
visitor into the small room at the back. ’Tilderann, 
noting with regret that the door closed carefully, 
found compensation in serving across the counter 
imaginary bonnets to imaginary wives of society 
millionaires at the price of fifty guineas per 
bonnet. 

“ Is this Robert Lancaster ? ” asked Mrs. West, 
in her pleasant way. She took up a photograph of 
a brown-faced sailor lad, clean shaven, with a 
humorous mouth and bare neck. 

w That ’s my Bobbie,” said Beatrice Bell, with 
pride. u Won’t you take the easy-chair, ma’am ? 
It ’s been quite a lovely summer, has n’t it ? I 
suppose we shall soon have autumn upon us if 
we ’re not careful, and — Oh,” she cried, in- 
terrupting herself. u What is the use of me 
pretending to be calm when I ’m all of a 
tremble ! ” 


A Son of the State 


305 

“ Now you must sit down/’ this with a kindly 
authoritativeness, “ sit down here close to me, and 
I am going to read to you the letter from my 
husband, which arrived only this evening.” 

“From Delar ? ” asked the girl, seating herself 
obediently on a hassock. 

“ From Delar.” 

“ How could you let your husband go away, 
ma’am ? ” 

“ I don’t think I can,” said Mrs. West, “ again.” 
She found the letter and took the thin sheets care- 
fully from the envelope. “ But I felt that I ought 
not to be selfish all through my life.” 

“ Were n’t you the sister who looked after Bob- 
bie in the hospital, ma’am? ” Mrs. West nodded 
and smoothed out the sheets of note paper. “ I 
wasn’t quite sure whether Mr. West wouldn’t 
go and marry some one else, considering — I 
s’pose I ’ve no business to say so — but consider- 
ing the way you kept putting him off.” 

“I took care,” said Mrs. Myddleton West, 
quickly, “ that he should not do anything so ab- 
surd. Shall I begin the letter ? ” 

“ If you please, ma’am,” said Beatrice Bell, 
looking up respectfully. 

Mrs. Myddleton West commenced. 

“ My dearest, ever dearest,” she stopped. “ I 
20 


306 A Son of the State 

don’t think I need trouble you with the first page 
at all,” she said with some confusion. 

“ I know what you mean, ma’am. Start where 
he begins to speak of Bobbie.” 

It appeared that Bobbie came in about the mid- 
dle of the second sheet. The war correspondent 
out at Delar had intuitively written on one side of 
the paper only, and Trixie Bell noted this deplor- 
able want of economy, but West’s small hand- 
writing managed to convey a good long letter. 

“You remember our young friend Bobbie Lan- 
caster. The lad, now a sailor attached to H.M.S. 
Pompous , is on the launch where I am writing, and 
he did this afternoon an act of quiet bravery which 
ought, I think, to make his country feel that the 
trouble it took to make a man of him was not 
wasted. I am sending an account of the incident 
to my journal by the post which takes this letter 
to you, but you will care to have fuller particulars. 
How I wish that the mail were also taking me to 
the arms — ” 

“That,” said Mrs. West, “is, of course, 
merely by the way.” 

“Skip a few lines,” suggested Trixie, her chin 
resting upon her hands, “ but don’t leave out more 
than you’re obliged.” 

The trail of the story was re-discovered. 


A Son of the State 307 

“ But touching Lancaster ! We left H.M.S. 
Pompous , and steamed up a broad smelly river, 
bordered by mangrove trees with long weeping 
branches, and approached the town of Delar. 
Delar is nothing like a town, but a mere collec- 
tion of whitewashed huts around a large circular 
hut, where that genial person, the king of Delar, 
has hitherto lived. It was in this central hut that 
he caused to be massacred the Englishmen who, at 
his request, came some months since to confer 
with him on the subject of trade; our expedition 
is, as you know, intended to prove to him that 
such tactics are not only unbusinesslike, but posi- 
tively rude. I was talking to the Intelligence 
Officer when Lancaster came up hurriedly, and, 
saluting, said that the Admiral wished to see the 
other officer at once. The Intelligence man hur- 
ried below, and Lancaster and I had two minutes* 
chat. He has grown a fine strong fellow, with 
honesty in both eyes, and muscular arms tattooed 
with the word c Trix.* ” 

“ The dear boy ! ’* burst out Miss Bell. 
u W e talked of the old days, and he said that 
he only cared to think of Hoxton now because his 
sweetheart lived there.** 

“ You might read that part again, ma’am.’* 

“ He talked of the old days, and he said that he 


308 A Son of the State 

only cared to think of Hoxton now because his 
sweetheart lived there.” 

The girl gasped. 

u Fancy his talking about me,” she said delight- 
edly, cc all that distance off. Go on, ma’am.” 

w Whilst we were talking, commotion began on 
shore. Men were running up and down ; boats 
were launched, the Intelligence Officer and the 
Admiral, escorted by four marines and four sailors, 
prepared to leave. Some whistling and giving of 
orders ; the steamer slowed and stopped. The 
Admiral, I may tell you, is a big-bearded fellow, 
daring, and very popular with the officers and the 
men, but on board the Pompous , just before we 
left, there had been general agreement that he had 
done a risky and almost a foolhardy thing in agree- 
ing to a palaver with some of the king’s support- 
ers. The officers knew that his idea was to 
punish the king and the king only ; whereas the 
officers desired to punish everybody. If you had 
seen the mutilated body of an English gentleman 
bound upon what is called a crucifixion tree near 
the king’s hut, I think, dear, you would have 
agreed with the officers. 

“ Not being allowed to go on shore, I give 
most of the rest as recounted to me by my friend 
the Intelligence Officer. The Admiral and his 


A Son of the State 309 

escort descended into the boats and were rowed 
ashore by the natives ; Robert Lancaster was one 
of the bluejackets. At the shore they were re- 
ceived with great courtesy by the king’s chief 
ministers ; the king, as we knew, had scuttled off 
inland on receiving news of our approach. With 
exceeding ceremony the Admiral and his escort 
found themselves conducted to the king’s com- 
pound, the while on the launch our Maxim stood 
ready to rake the town on the least sign of treach- 
ery. At each door of the king’s house lay a 
woman’s dead body ; this, it was explained, had 
been done to prevent the arrival of the English; 
a precaution on the part of the king that had 
proved singularly unsuccessful. In the palaver 
house, a long half-roofed building with a bronze 
serpent at the entrance, and inside, seats of dry 
red mud, the Admiral took up position, and 
through the interpreter addressed the chiefs ; 
Robert Lancaster being, as I am told, one of the 
men stationed behind the Admiral and his officers. 
Standing at a rough table, the Admiral said that the 
great White Queen was angry because of the 
infamous massacre of her children ; as a good 
mother she had determined to avenge their murder. 
But though the great White Queen was powerful, 
she was also just, she wished to punish only those 


3 IQ 


A Son of the State 


responsible. Wherefore the king was to be pur- 
sued and captured and dealt with severely, but 
those of the natives who were friendly would not 
be hurt, and would, indeed, be under British 
protection.” 

“ I am now,” said young Mrs. Myddleton 
West, gravely, “coming to the very serious part 
of the letter.” 

u May I hold your ’and, ma’am ? ” asked the 
girl. For answer she found her right hand taken 
instantly with a quiet matronly manner that gave 
her confidence. 

w As the Admiral spoke and the interpreter re- 
peated each sentence, the ministers listened with 
attention and with plain signs of agreement. The 
younger men rose from the red mud seats and 
pressed forward. They began to speak confus- 
edly ; the Admiral held up his hand for order. 
One of the younger men smashed a square of 
looking-glass on the floor ; at the same moment 
Robert Lancaster flung himself suddenly on a 
muscular black youth who had risen from the 
ground close to the Admiral, unseen by others of 
the escort. The blade intended for the Admiral’s 
back caught in the fleshy part of Lancaster’s arm ; 
a swift struggle ensued between the two before the 
others realised what was happening. A sharp 


A Son of the State 


311 

revolver shot from one of the officers settled the 
murderous young black ; Lancaster sucked at his 
own wound, spat, stepped calmly back to his 
place.” 

w Now, now ! ” protested the wife of Myddleton 
West, breaking off tearfully, “you mustn’t cry, 
dear.” 

“ I know,” sobbed Miss Bell. 

“ The others shared his composure ; the Admiral 
himself never lost self-possession for a moment. 
He concluded the palaver as though nothing of 
moment had happened ; went out of the house 
with his escort and down to the shore and re- 
embarked. Arrived here on the launch, the 
Admiral sent for Bobbie. 

“‘What is your name, my lad ? ’ 

“ c Robert Lancaster, sir, of the Pompous / 

“ c Are you hurt much ? ’ 

“ c Nothing to brag about, sir/ 

“ c Do you know that you saved my life ? * 

“ c Well, sir,’ said Bobbie, with great respect, 
c I ’m not sorry to have paid back a bit of what I 
owe/ 

“ c Mr. West,’ remarked the Admiral, turning 
to me, c let the English people know something 
about this. I will look after the lad, but you, too, 
can do something/ 


A Son of the State 


3 12 

u The doctor tells me that the blade was 
poisoned at the tip — ” 

Beatrice Bell’s hand tightened her hold, and the 
white speckled blouse stilled for a moment. 

“ And that Lancaster’s smartness and resource 
alone saved the wound from becoming dangerous. 
Lancaster wants you to call on his sweetheart and 
tell her all about it, because for a few weeks he 
will not be able to write. I shall be home, my 
dearest, in less than a month, and when I see 
you — ” 

“ That is all about Bobbie,” said Mrs. Myddle- 
ton West, stopping. a What do you think of it 
all, dear ? ” 

“ I could no more,” declared Miss Bell, 
“ explain to you what I think, ma’am, than I could 
fly. I ’m too thankful to talk much.” The girl 
looked wistfully at the sheets of rustling note paper. 
lc You ’d think I ’d got impudence,” she said hesi- 
tatingly, u if I told you, though, what I ’ve got in 
my mind.” 

u Tell me!” 

w Why, I was just thinkin’ how annoyed you ’d 
be if I was to ask you to give me the part that 
concerns — that concerns my Bobbie.” 

Far from showing annoyance, Mrs. West 
cheerfully ordered the production of scissors ; 


A Son of the State 


3i3 


’Tilderann, being called, responded so promply that 
suspicious persons might have guessed she had 
become tired of serving imaginary customers, and 
had been trying to listen at the doorway. Having 
brought the scissors, ’Tilderann was sent back again 
to look after the shop. Then the two women 
bent their heads near to each other, and dividing 
the letter carefully, judiciously, and very lovingly, 
the shares were allotted. 

u My dear,” said Mrs. West, rising, “ come and 
see me at the address on this envelope to-morrow 
evening, and let us talk it all over quietly. Come 
to dinner.” 

u Me ? ” asked the astonished girl. “ Me at 
dinner in Kensington ? ” 

“ I insist upon it.” 

“ I ’m a good talker,” stammered Miss Bell, 
“ in — in an ord’nary way, but just now — I only 
wish my friend Miss Threepenny was here.” 

A call from ’Tilderann. 

u But some day me and Bobbie will be able to 
tell you how much — ” 

She bent her head to her friend’s hand impul- 
sively. Young Mrs. West kissed her on the 
cheek. 

a Lot of use anybody bawling 1 Shop,’ ” said 
’Tilderann at the doorway ironically, “ when no 


314 


A Son of the State 


one don’t take no notice. Why, you ’re crying ! 
Whatever ’s the matter, miss ? ” 

“ Matter ? ” repeated Miss Beatrice Bell, with 
indignation. “ Do you think I should cry if there 
was anything really the matter ? ” 


THE END. 



























































OCT 30 I" 9 











